Rise of the Nightingale
by Rayner Fox
Summary: She's honed herself to be the best she can be to save her city. But will it be enough when hell breaks loose? She's a shadowy figure trying to help, but he wants to shed some light on her. No matter what the cost is. In a matter of moments, they're rivals, but can they work together to save her city and accomplish his mission?
1. Waking Up to a Brand New Day

**Waking Up to a Brand New Day**

**Gotham City, Connecticut**

**7:12 A.M. EDT**

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><p>"Work with me, will <em>you<em>?" Dick Grayson growled in frustration as he continued to run a comb through his wet yet unruly ebony locks.

The fogged up mirror vaguely reflected his image, informing him that his hair style still looked so close to Robin's that he had to force it into submission so that it looked tame.

"Almost have it …. There!" he muttered triumphantly, finally getting the cow lick to stay in line with the other hair follicles. He nodded at his reflection finally satisfied with it.

Dick set his comb on the counter of his private bathroom and entered his bedroom. He sauntered over to his desk where he'd left his knapsack Friday afternoon before the mission.

Hoisting it onto his shoulder, he cringed.

_Guess that's still gonna hurt,_ he thought as he gingerly adjusted his knapsack. _Good thing the mission went well or I'd have more bruises than this._

He smiled slightly at the memory of the weekend's successful mission. It'd gone nearly perfect and except for a slight altercation, the team came out unscathed. Plus, it had boosted his confidence tenfold.

He gave his desk a quick scan to make sure he hadn't left any wayward sheets of homework behind before leaving the room when he was assured that there was nothing he needed on it.

Dick hummed contentedly as he trotted down a few gentle slopped flights of stairs heading towards the regular dining hall and was greeted by …

"Ah, Master Richard," Alfred Pennyworth said in his thick British accented voice. "I was just about to come up and inform you that breakfast is served."

"Great," Dick responded enthusiastically. "I'm starved."

"I should hope so, a growing young man needs all the nutrients he can get," the sagely butler agreed approvingly.

Set on the mahogany wood table was a plentiful breakfast that was made specifically for him. Beacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns, a bowl of fruit, a glass of orange juice, and a mug of hot cocoa waited for him at his place.

Setting his knapsack down beside the leg of the table, Dick sat down as his place and began eating as soon as he was seated. He doubted that Bruce would be joining him for breakfast in the next fifteen minutes, so he wasn't going to wait for very long.

However, he did chew his meal slowly. As soon as he was finished with his breakfast Alfred would insist that he go to school.

Dick sighed while chewing his cereal. Gotham Academy wasn't a bad school; it however was probably the most boring though. The only thing interesting about it was the recent enrollment of Artemis.

Her presence at the posh school off set all the exclusiveness of it. Unfortunately, he only had a few classes with her, but one thing was for sure, those classes were never boring, at least when they were allowed to have classroom discussion.

A smirk curled upon Dick's face as he recalled how debate class had been last week, what with Artemis's '_unrefined_' vocabulary. Everyone in the classroom was laughing with tears at Mrs. Roger's reaction to the female archer's argument.

Dick stared at his cereal as he stirred it, only looking up when the kitchen door opened and a heavier footfall then Alfred's accompanied it. Of course it was Bruce finally back from his patrol of Gotham City and finally joining Dick for breakfast with the Monday's paper under his arm.

"Morning Bruce," Dick greeted before taking a swig of his hot cocoa.

Bruce reciprocated the greeting with a curt nod before unfolding the paper and drink in his coffee.

_So_ _much for conversation,_ he thought drinking down the milk left in his cereal bowl before moving on to his bowl of fruit. _Let's try something else._

After a few minutes Dick asked, "If mischievous means troublesome, then would chievous mean to be obedient?"

Dick didn't really expect an answer but he could hope that his mentor was paying attention. Much to his surprise, he didn't hope in vain.

"'Chievous' isn't a word," corrected the Dark Knight almost absentmindedly as his mentor read the paper.

"Yeah, but if it _were_, wouldn't it be the opposite of mischievous?" Dick persisted. He'd gotten one answer out of Bruce already; another might not be so hard.

"I suppose." This time, Bruce definitely sounded absentminded.

_Okay, that's weird, and unlike Bruce._ Dick paused in his consumption of his breakfast to study his mentor. He noticed quickly that whatever was in the paper held Bruce's full attention.

Whatever held his mentor's attention might be important to him as well, so he asked, "What'cha reading?"

"Have you ever heard of Daleville's vigilante, the Nightingale?" Bruce asked, finally setting the paper down.

Dick thought for a moment. He couldn't recall having heard of a vigilante known as Nightingale before, and he only vaguely recalled Daleville being mentioned before. He wasn't happy with it, the name meant nothing to him and Daleville was mostly a small town of little consequence to him.

"No … should I have?" He hoped hadn't missed something important.

"Until recently, no. The Nightingale has kept a low profile, and stayed her limitations, though she's always pushing them further and further," his mentor replied, handing the _Gotham Gazette _to Dick. "Now, however, she may have pushed her limits further than she's ready for without knowing it, and accomplished something more notable."

"_She_?" Dick questioned, his inquisitive nature getting the better of him as he glanced over the article. An astonished look spread itself across his face. "She did _what_?"

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**7:35 A.M. EDT**

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><p>She was oblivious to the world as she lay curled up in soft warmth. Only the low dim of the orphanage made her aware that morning had arrived.<p>

"Bree … Briana, _Briana_ _Thomas_!" A yell amplified the sounds of the dim tenfold, and the sensation that her warmth was quickly leaving rushed over her. Much to her annoyance, she realized that someone was pulling her blanket.

"…._What_?" she groggily groaned, screwing her eyes shut and reclaiming as much of her blanket as she could.

"Get up _now_! You're running late for the shower rush as _is_, but if you don't get moving now all hell's gonna break loose," came the reply along with a tug on her blanket, though to no avail. Briana already had a tighter hold on it than her opponent.

"….Whose trying to destroy the foundations of the universe _this_ time, Amanda?" Briana growled though it came out as more of a yawn, before successfully landing a gentle yet swift kick to Amanda's fisted hand which held her blanket and resulting in the tugging of her covers cease. Once again her sheets were in her possession again, he rolled over.

"Ian and Isaac!"

This time she did yawn before saying: "I thought their forte was nightmares and ghost stories."

"Yeah, well, the terrors are now interested in Daisy's window garden," Amanda answered, calling Briana's attention further into the conscious world, then continued, "Do you know how _hard_ you can kick?"

"Can't Mr. Mathews take care of it?" Briana sifted under the sheets. She still felt reluctant to start the day, even if she did feel slightly obligated.

"No, that lazy cretin is _still_ asleep."

_Of course he'd still be asleep._ Briana rolled her eyes in annoyance, but the effect was lost since she had her head tucked under her pillow. "Alright, I'll get up. You go hold off the Crane twins while I hop in the shower and then come avert disaster. Sound okay?"

"Okay … wait, _what_?" her friend questioned when she realized what Briana's suggestion entailed.

"Just go make sure Isaac and Ian don't destroy Daisy's plants," she clarified with a grunt, still refusing to leave her bed or open her eyes any more than she had to as daylight tried to break through her sleepy mind.

"You'd better be as fast as the Flash, if not faster," Amanda ordered as Briana heard the door to their room moan as her roommate shut it. She laughed lightly into her pillow though Amanda wouldn't have heard it anyway since she'd just left the room.

With a stifled yawn, Briana peeked out from under her pillow. Her green eyes began to analyze what little she could see through her window.

_Guess the storm's blown over,_ she thought as she uncurled her legs and stretched. _Wish they'd stuck around. A dreary day would nicer, especially on Mondays._

She yawned again still feeling exhausted. The three or four hours she'd gotten to sleep hadn't made up for all that she'd missed.

After a reluctant moment, Briana finally forced her sore muscles to hoist her out of bed.

She frowned as she noted what she'd worn to bed. In her upright position she could only see her pants and she wasn't pleased.

_Oh, _lovely_, Nightingale,_ she silently reprimanded herself as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. _Your laziness could've gotten you in serious trouble. I don't need more people knowing that I'm the Nightingale._

With a long suffered sigh, she shed her black sleeveless hoodie and stripped the long sleeved shirt with black sleeves and a silver-grey torso. Inspecting the shirt momentarily, she saw that there was blood on it, no doubt her own.

She could feel bruises forming on her abdomen and along with miscellaneous scrapes all along her arms and even some on her chest.

_Guess I'm gonna need to wash these. Thank God it wasn't Scourge, or else I'd have more maintenance to do._ Briana traced the dark green Nightingale insignia on the shirt as she wondered if she could get around to it that week or trade chores with the person on laundry duty for a day.

Briana tossed the top portion of her uniform into a pile of clothing that littered the floor of her and Amanda's room.

_Get moving,_ she ordered herself, pulling on an old wrinkled shirt that could pass as a pajama top. She snatched up the clothing she'd set out the evening before and made her way to the showers, deciding to leave her black pair of jeans on for convenience.

"'Scuse me, Bree, gotta get to my room."

"You're excused, Tobey," Briana replied.

Tobey wasn't the only one to be heading back to their room. They were coming from the usual morning destinations like the showers or the dining hall. None were surprised to see her up so late in the morning, Briana rose only when necessary in the mornings and most of the time an early wakeup call wasn't necessary.

She turned the corner and entered the shower room of the orphanage. As she expected, she was the last one to use the showers, but she wasn't the only one in the room.

"Well, look whose _finally_ decided to show her face," a voice as smooth as silk taunted as Briana set her clothing down in the shower stall and prepared to bathe.

"Morning to you too, Silvia," Briana grumbled in reply, turning to the older teen who'd addressed her.

She was never in the mood to deal with Silvia and her clique's torments in the morning, but evidently it was tradition for the older girl's to badger anyone late to the showers while they did their make-up. (Where they even got their cosmetics, Briana wasn't sure since it was a contraband item.)

"You do know that there isn't any hot water, don't you, Bree?" Silvia fixed her flippant gaze on Briana who glowered back.

There were reasons why Briana always thought that Silvia would be the perfect voice actor for a fox if an animated movie ever needed one, and Silvia's teasing and annoying was most of the reason.

"Yeah, I _know_, Silvia. There never _is_ enough hot water to get everyone through the showers in the morning," she responded coldly, tensing as she gathered shower supplies from the cabinet furthest from the mirrors where Silvia and company were doing their make-up.

"_Well_," the older teen continued in her same slick tone. "I'm _sure_ you'll enjoy the cold shower anyway, 'cause you've never experienced a warm one."

"If you get out of here, I just might." Briana's tone was cold and emotionless. If Silvia at least thought that she wasn't getting to her, than Briana might have some peace soon.

"As luck would have it, I'm headed to breakfast. Maybe I'll leave you some." Silvia and her posse began to stow their personal items and left in short order.

Briana practically let out a sigh of relief as they left.

_Finally, I can get some privacy for at least a few minutes,_ Briana thought as alarmingly cool water cascaded over her shoulders. Goosebumps started to appear as she worked a lather of shampoo into her ebony hair. Her body wouldn't take long to get used to the temperature, but she made short work of bathing. She didn't want to be under that temperature of water _that_ cold for longer than she had to.

As she'd promised Amanda (and because the water was colder than she'd liked), she was pulling on an ordinary pair of jeans and a crimson shirt emblazoned with a panther outlined in black after she'd scrubbed as much water off her clean body.

A yawn escaped her lips as she tossed her laundry into a pile of clothing as she sauntered into her room. _Oh good grief, if a shower can't wake me up nothing short of coffee or an adrenaline rush will._

Briana carded a hand through her shoulder length black hair, she felt more exhausted than she should. This particular Monday was already turning into one of the longest yet, especially if the opened Geometry textbook on the desk she and Amanda shared was anything to go by.

Bree groaned as she shut the textbook and deposited it in her knapsack along with the notebook that accompanied it. She shrugged gloomily. _Great, I haven't finished my Geometry homework. At least I'll have something to do in Mrs. Brooks today. Hopefully, Monday isn't a prelude to a bad week, it'd be just my luck that the last week of being thirteen would be my worst and being the youngest sophomore in the city isn't going to help anything. Friday won't come soon enough._

"Hey, Thomas."

Her head jerked up from the contents of her knapsack that she'd been checking for missing necessities to see a friend standing in her doorway.

"Hi, Jack, what's up?" Bree had to force her mouth to form those words, even if she knew she was perfectly capable of forming the sentence any other time.

Mentally, she scrubbed a hand over her face in frustration. Recently, she easily became flustered around Jack and she didn't like it. She was also noticing minute details about him such as how bright and attentive his blue eyes were in the morning light.

"Amanda says to hurry or she'll be having nightmares for weeks," Jack responded as he stepped into her room. "And I'd hurry if I were, 'cause the Crane twins are intent on total destruction of the window garden. I'd help, but those two won't listen to me this morning."

"Will do." She rose from her desk chair and hoisted her knapsack onto her shoulders. Despite herself, Briana felt as if she ought to say more to Jack, so she called over her shoulder, "Oh, and Jack?"

"Hmm?" He'd turned around to face her and she suddenly felt awkward.

_Oh, crap, what do I say? I can't just dive into a conversation without an idea of what to say and not come out looking like an idiot. _

"Thanks." Of all the things she could have said, that was the only one that she felt was appropriate.

"You're welcome, Thomas." Jack gave her a friendly nod and she would have headed down stairs, but Jack continued, "And one more thing, Ms. Patsy left a plate of grub for you. It should be on the kitchen counter … that is if no one has touched it."

Bree would have vocalized her appreciation of him for informing her, but she decided against it and nodded instead.

"You're welcome, Thomas."

A smile that was usually a prelude to a hearty chuckle spread across Jack's face as he gave her a parting wave before heading back to his own room.

She pivoted on her heels and all but marched down the flights of stairs leading to the kitchen, fuming in frustration. She felt irked and confused and oddly … happy.

If there was one thing that Briana had learned in life, it would be that happy was _never_ a good feeling. Contented, satisfied, pleased, and at ease were fine, they were feelings that were only momentary. Here one day and gone the next.

But happy, that feeling tended to stick around for quite a while and when if left, it went out with a bang and sadness replaced it. She didn't want to be happy because she usually got hurt by that feeling. At least when it came to this degree of happy, anything less and she understood it and felt fine with it.

_What is _wrong_ with me? Friends_ do not _feel like this about friends, right?_ She sighed exasperatedly and began ignoring her emotions altogether like she should've all along. For all she knew, they could just be the result of teenaged hormones.

As she reached the top of the stairs leading to the kitchen where her breakfast and Daisy's window garden were waiting, an almost maniacal disembodied boyish cackle tore through her train of thought shortly followed by …

"_Briana, help_! S._M_.S. Save _my_ sanity!"

Briana recognized Amanda's distinct sense of humor and almost chuckled, but another sound followed her friend's plea, the sound of a plastic plate hitting the linoleum floor of the kitchen.

_Please say that's _not_ my breakfast._ She shot that prayer up to the powers that be while taking two stairs at a time. Her footfalls were light and accurate enough to have been one of her patrol runs across a rooftop and soon enough, she stood at the bottom. _Oh _crud_, it was my breakfast._

Briana would have found the scene comical if the plastic plate that had had her breakfast on it weren't on the floor. Her stomach let out a gurgle of protest as she looked longingly at the cold ham, runny scrambled eggs, and burnt toast on the floor. She didn't care if she had the last pickings, she was hungry.

With a disgruntled frown, Briana looked at the real problems: Isaac and Ian.

Everyone in the orphanage knew that the mischievous pair would cause trouble for anyone and everyone and this morning they were giving the brunt of the day's mischief making to Amanda and Daisy who was being comforted by Jack's little sister, Hailey.

The nine year old girl was seething and glaring daggers at the twin nearest to her, the one standing haphazardly on the kitchen counter.

Briana watched as he threw the potted plant to his brother who was _in_ the bay window where Daisy's window garden was situated. She was impressed with their antics, but in no mood to give her seal of approval.

_Classic monkey in the middle, but with a twist._

The potted plant sailed over Amanda's head, sprinkling her with dirt as she lunged for it but failed to catch it.

"Give me that _stupid_ plant, Isaac!" Amanda growled harshly as she wiped the dirt from her face. Of course, the twins proceeded to deny that they were either twin.

"_I'm_ Isaac," claimed the one on the counter.

"_No_, he's Ian."

"Will you two _cut that_ _out_?"

"They're _not_ stupid." Daisy's wail interrupted the twins' taunts.

Briana decided to intervene before the situation could get any further out of hand.

"That one's Isaac," Briana stated, announcing her presence and pointing to the one on the counter. "And the other's Ian."

Amanda gave her a mixed look that consisted of annoyance and relief. The expression also demanded an answer as to why she'd taken so long. Briana would've given her a noncommittal shrug, but she had to deal with the Cranes first.

"How do _you_ know?" they chorused.

"Isaac's got a slight cow lick and Ian's still got scratches from antagonizing that cat last week. You took the band aide off during dinner last night, _remember_?" she replied confidently and the twins paled. Briana smirked as a stunned look captured their expressions. She was one of the few who could tell them apart.

She stepped forward, her legs muscles tense and ready to lunge forward at a moment's notice. In her best diplomatic tone, she asked, "May I have the plant?"

Her eyes narrowed and her lips formed a fine line in determination as she watched a wry smile spread across Isaac's face a few facial sentences with his brother later. _This isn't gonna be very easy, it _never_ is._

"If you _insist_, Briana," Isaac drawled. He leaned over as if he was going to hand Amanda the plant, but at the last possible second he dropped it.

As soon as he let the potted plant free fall, Bree dove forward. Her momentum propelled her forward, and she landed on the floor, causing her to slide, along with the contents of her knapsack which slammed into the back of her head, towards where the plant would land. Miraculously, however, Briana's hands grasped the plant moments before it shattered on the linoleum floor.

Briana let out a breath of air she hadn't realized she'd been holding as she leaned against the cabinet under the sink.

The twins weren't happy that she'd managed to catch the potted plant, but they weren't around to express their disappointment. Both Amanda and Daisy were relieved, as she could see when Daisy reverently took the plant from her, and Hailey was far from happy.

"Get back here, you booger-eaters!" the nine year old hollered as she chased the twins out of the kitchen and into the dining hall. "You're gonna pay for that, you annoying creeps!"

"You'd think that _she_ was the ginger of the two of them," Amanda muttered as she offered a hand to Briana.

Bree nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know."

"Sorry about your breakfast. Isaac decided to do a cartwheel on the counter."

Briana's eyebrows shot up at Amanda's apology. "In that case, we're lucky it isn't Isaac's head that ended up on the floor. I guess school breakfast isn't so bad."

She and Amanda glanced over at the digital clock on the kitchen's stove.

"If you're gonna have breakfast at school, we need to leave now. I bet Johnny's even waiting for us at Burney's."

Briana nodded and headed for the door as Amanda followed.

**1) Special thanks to SkewedPerspective for beta-ing this for me. 2) This chapter has been rewritten, other chapters might how have been rewritten, read at your own risk, but please do read though, it's a good story.**

**And 3) special announcement right here: Rayner has a Tumbler page for this and my other fanfiction stories, please check it out and feel free to interact with me further there. It's raynerfoxslibrary .tumbler Please removed the spaces first, because you won't get my page unless you do.**

**~Rayner out**


	2. Read Between the Lines of What You See

**Read Between the Lines of What You See**

**Keystone, Missouri**

**12:09 P.M. CDT**

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><p>Wally West stared in dismay as a glob of <em>something<em> landed on his lunch tray with a plop. Whatever the heck the main dish was supposed to be, he couldn't tell.

As usual, the cafeteria food of Keystone High was an interesting combination of _disgusting_ and _inedible_. Even he, a speedster with the need to eat every ten minutes, wouldn't touch what his school served with a ten foot pole.

Luckily, Wally always, _always_ kept a cache of snacks in his locker just in case he got hungry, which happened to be every single moment of the day.

Gloomily, he found an unoccupied lunch table to sit at. Monday had never been a good day of the week for him. School often prohibited him from moving at the speed he wanted to and the day moved way, _way_ too slow for his taste. Being able to read a text book in less than thirty seconds really had its disadvantages at times.

Reluctantly, he stuck his fork into the something that had been served for lunch and took a bit.

_Oh,_ geez, _what is this stuff? _His eyes widened as he muscled his way past the gag reflex. Washing it down with milk, Wally looked at his side dishes hoping that there would be something _more_ compatible with his stomach, but he had no such luck. The side dishes seemed just as bad. _Why can't they serve something at we can actually eat?_

Instead of eating, Wally began to stare at his watch, waiting for the bell for his next period to ring. His stomach growled in impatience, he'd have to wait until he had access to his locker to have lunch, and to make matters worse he had Physical Education next period, his least favorite class. He hated it, because he was always at risk of revealing his secret identity. P.E. involved running, a lot of _running_, and sometimes it was really tempting to use his super speed.

_I can't _wait _to get to the Cave,_ he thought longingly as the bell rang signaling for classes to resume. The Cave was one of the few places where he could do regular physical activities and not have to worry about having to reign in his speed.

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**1:23 P.M. EDT**

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><p>Briana had been glaring intently at the same spot for at least a minute and a half. Today in P.E. they were doing some Presidential Fitness Test or something like that. Whatever it was really didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was keeping her body in the air as she hung from the bar about suspended about five or six feet above the ground.<p>

Her aim was to hang there for about a minute and forty-five seconds, of which she only had fifteen seconds left. She knew she could stay up there much longer than that, _but_ not without risking revealing to the P.E. teacher who she was when the sun went down.

A shudder ran up her spin as she let go of the bar, faking that she had cramping muscles and had had enough.

"What'd I get?" Briana asked, rolling her shoulders trying to get the lactic acid out of them.

"A minute and fifty-nine seconds, the best time in the class. _Not bad_ for a thirteen year old kid," reported Mr. James happily.

Briana nodded before making her way back to her friends. Amanda and Johnny Miles were sitting on the padded seats of the some of Daleville High's fitness center's equipment, waiting for her to return to socializing.

Johnny Miles was a shrimp of a kid. By no stretch of the imagination was he athletic, but he _did_ have brains and had gotten straight A's since preschool. He had brown hair, a face dotted with freckles, and blue eyes that were always looking for facts.

If you were new to town, you _might_ mistake Amanda for Johnny's twin, for she looked a _lot_ like him. Amanda had a slightly darker brown hair color than Johnny, she had freckles, and blues eyes to go along with them. But Amanda and Johnny weren't related.

Johnny, unlike Briana and Amanda, had a family, and most of them worked for Daleville's police force. Johnny's mom was apart of dispatch and a few of his uncles and aunts were police officers or forensic scientists. So it was advantageous for Briana to be friends with Johnny, _but_ there were very few times that _that_ was the reason for their friendship.

"Cutting it kind of close, aren't we, _Gale_?" Amanda asked in a hoarse whisper so that only the three friends could hear. Out of all the people Briana knew and called friend, only Amanda and Johnny knew her secret. Amanda because she'd accidentally found out due to she and Briana being roommate. Johnny because being in a law enforcement family as large as his had its disadvantages and the Nightingale had gotten him out of many a sticky situation.

"Nah, I'm going to fail or nearly fail the flexibility test next week." She grabbed her water bottle and poured some cool liquid into her sweat laced ebony black hair that she had put into a small pony tail for class.

"Anything interesting happen last night?" questioned Johnny. For some reason, Johnny was interested in the Nightingale's activities, even if quite a few of his relations were trying to uncover her true identity.

"Nothing much." Briana shrugged even though a lot of things had happened over the course of the previous night. But she didn't want to talk about it in this particular setting.

"Bree, come on, you haven't told me _anything_ and Daleville is _never_ uneventful at night," Amanda pried. "So, Thomas, _spill_, what happened last night?"

"Nothing we _should_ talk about here," Briana growled as she made her way to some of the school's fitness equipment that she intended to use.

"_Okay_, so what's Gale's plan's for tonight?" Amanda asked following Briana.

"You know, you _two_ are going to either be the reason I end up in jail or joining the Justice League, neither of which looks too good from where I stand," Briana said, beginning to use the exercise as she did so.

"What's _wrong_ with the Justice League? Considering what you do in your free time, you'll probably join them _eventually_," said Johnny quietly.

"Nothing really, and I'm _sure_ that I won't mind joining it once I'm ready. But if it happens too fast, I don't think I'll be ready. I am only thirteen," Briana pointed out, grunting as she pulled her own weight.

"Ah, come on Bree, Robin couldn't much older than you," protested Amanda causally.

"He _has_ a mentor. _I_ do not. And why are we even having this conversation? Here and now of all places, you decide to have this sort of conversation, _why_?" she grunted.

"Alright, alright, on the way back then?" Amanda asked, still attempting to get information out of Briana.

"Maybe."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"_Maybe_," Briana replied, pausing to glare at Amanda.

**Gotham City, Connecticut**

**3:10 P.M. EDT**

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><p>Artemis Crock glared at the clock as if will power alone would speed time up. It had been a long day at Gotham Academy, not to mention a boring one. Oh, <em>how<em> she longed to be back at Gotham North, at least there she had friends and people who _would_ talk to her.

As the last few minutes of the school day dragged on, Artemis's mind flitted between the clock on the wall and her Algebra work sheet. If there was one thing she _hated_ more than waiting, it was Algebra. She'd never been good at math. Back at Gotham North math had been easier, but now in the prodigious, preppy Gotham Academy everything was harder.

In an attempt to keep her mind off of how long the last fifteen minutes were taking, she let her thoughts wander to those around her, such as the person in the seat next to her. Oddly enough, the person next to her was Dick Grayson, the ward of Bruce Wayne the richest man in Gotham. The kid who was supposed to be a freshman at the age thirteen, but had somehow skipped a grade, at least when it came to math.

Dick seemed to be agitated about something, and it had _nothing_ to do with the Algebra work sheet, he was done with _that_. To pass the time, he seemed to be reading something in the _Gotham Gazette_ and different pages copied from the internet.

The head line of the article he was reading read: "Nightingale Thwarts Technology Heist." The article's title seemed to hold some mysterious allure as Artemis continued reading over Dick's shoulder.

"_Daleville vigilante known as the Nightingale, a figure seemingly more shadowy than the Dark Knight himself, has stepped a little further into the public's light_," read the first sentence. The paragraph went on introducing the Nightingale, and the next one would have continued to tell what the Nightingale had done to thwart the heist, but just as Artemis reached it the bell announcing the day's end rang and everyone rushed out of the class room. Artemis followed suit, and made her way to her locker, having decided to deposit her text books in there instead of bringing them home.

As she made her way to the bus stop, Artemis checked her pockets to make sure she had fifty cents. After having read that much of the article she decided to get a copy for herself, just to find out more about this Nightingale.

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**3:59 P.M. EDT**

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><p>Amanda, Briana, and Johnny walked in the general direction of their respective homes. Amanda found herself alone with her thoughts as she watched Briana nodded her head in time with a nonexistent tune. The kid - for that was what Briana was - often did this, causing Amanda to imagine that somehow or other Briana had an MP3 inside her brain. Though it wouldn't have surprised her if Briana was actually remembering a song that they'd heard somewhere over the course of the day, Briana often remembered things that no one else could or would.<p>

Over the course of the three year period that Amanda had been Briana's roommate and friend, she'd never been able to place what category Briana's memorization skills fell into. Sometimes it seemed like Briana had all the different styles of memory rolled up into one head; with a large portion of it being photographic and phonographic, the rest of it was probably devoted to being able to memorize everything she read, thus enabling Briana to be a nearly unlimited resource for facts and an amateur detective.

As they walked along, Amanda had to restrain herself from pestering Briana about her activities as Nightingale. Briana could withhold information better than a poker champion could hold his cards, and she could do it with an even better poker face. So silence surrounded the trio as Johnny and Amanda waited for Briana to start the conversation.

Presently, they came to Burney's newsstand, often a spawning ground for gossip concerning the Nightingale. If there was one person in all of Daleville who knew just as much information about the Nightingale without actually knowing her identity as posed to those who did, it was Burney.

Somehow or other, Briana found it amusing to see what theories and speculation was running around about her alter ego by talking with Burney who at times wouldn't _shut up_.

"Hey, Burney, what's the latest?" greeted Briana, coming to a stop in front of the news stand.

"Guess where the Nightingale landed?" asked Burney enthusiastically.

Burney was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five, and had a slight muscular build. His dark brown hair was in its usual unkempt manor, and his excited brown eyes were wide as a kid's in a candy store whose parents said he could get anything he wanted. Today, Burney wore a brilliant red shirt with the Flash's insignia on it and grey sweat pants. Burney was always fascinated with superheroes to a point that it seemed slightly _obsessive_.

"Can't guess 'cause I don't know where the Nightingale would land other than her nest," Briana joked with a shrug and a smile that could have out done _any_ movie star. "_Besides_ you're going to tell me anyway, so what's the use in guessing."

"The Nightingale ended up in the papers," replied Burney even more _ecstatic_ than before.

_Figures, Briana must have done something big to feel the need to sleep through lunch,_ Amanda thought as she rolled her eyes. Briana, well really the Nightingale, had been ending up in the papers a lot recently, and she thought that it only paralleled how much time Briana was putting into her hero activities.

"Not just _any_ papers _though_," he continued. "She ended up in the _Gotham Gazette_."

Amanda felt her jaw drop to the floor and she saw that Johnny had the same stunned look on his face, _but_ Briana had a slight look of horror in her eyes. Then, just as quickly as the horror had come into Briana's green eyes, it left; leaving a hardened, penetrating version in their stead. She'd seen this look before, a look that the Nightingale often had on. It indicated that the Nightingale side of Briana's life was taking over; the detective side of her personality was emerging.

* * *

><p>Briana had expected to be in the <em>Daleville Harold<em>, one of the few rewards she ever received for all her cuts and bruises, but she _had not_ anticipated that the Nightingale would ever be mentioned in the _Gotham Gazette_.

As quick as she could, Briana snapped her mind out of the surprise she felt and began to ask herself the question of why? Why on earth would the Nightingale's heroics end up in the _Gazette_? The answer was blatantly apparent to her, whatever the thief had been after was really important and the thief was much more uncommon for Daleville's criminal activity than she'd first thought.

"So, _Briana_, will it be the usual newspapers today?" asked Burney with a wry smile of satisfaction, knowing he had their full attention for a few minutes.

"How much more would it be to add the _Gazette_ to my bill?" Briana replied, smiling back and acting like a kid asking for the latest comic book.

"For one of my _best_ customers, I'll let you have it for twenty-five cents," he answered collecting Briana's usual newspapers: the _Daleville Harold _and the _Daily Planet_ along with the _Gotham Gazette_.

Rummaging through the pockets of her knapsack, Briana replied, "You're the _best_, Burney. I owe you one."

"Anytime, kid, anytime, and keep a look out for anything to do with the Nightingale. It's _so_ cool that Daleville had its own superhero."

"Will do." Briana handed Burney the dollar seventy-five in return for the three newspapers and the transaction was over. With that, she continued on her way home with Johnny and Amanda close on her heals. The inevitable point in the afternoon's walk had arrived; Briana was going to have to tell them what had occurred the previous night.

Once out of earshot of Burney and anyone in the general area, Briana growled, "Will you two _sweep_ your jaws up off the floor already? _So_ the Nightingale made the _Gotham Gazette_, _big deal_, it was inevitable anyway."

Apparently that snapped the opinionated Amanda out of the stunned silence.

"How can you be so cool about it? What is this to you, _a game_?" she countered with a passionate fire in her eyes.

"No, Amanda, it _was_ never a game and I _never_ treat it as such, _despite_ what it may seem like at times," Briana coldly replied, stunning Amanda who hadn't expected such an answer. "And for your information, I'm not _'so_ cool about it'. In fact, I'm rather _disturbed_ by it, because being mentioned in the _Gazette_ could mean _unwanted_ attention."

Amanda gave Briana a surprised look. Briana knew that she was capable of cloaking her emotions fairly well, and Amanda had never been able to figure out when she was hiding something or not.

"Look, _I'm_ just as surprised as you are at making the headlines, but I've always known that it'd happen sometime or other," Briana said, breaking the tension and letting some of her worry crawl into her voice, "I just didn't expect it to be _so _soon in my life, and that has me worried."

"_So_, what's the article about, Bree?" Leave it to Johnny to get straight to the heart of the matter.

Briana set her knapsack down on a nearby bench and stowed her two usual papers before even glancing at the _Gazette_.

"'Nightingale Thwarts Technology Heist', that _sounds promising_," she groaned with sarcasm seething through her voice, and then continued to read in a mumble, "'_Daleville's vigilante known as the Nightingale, a figure…_'."

She began to read silently as her friends read over her shoulder. The article talked about who the Nightingale was, as far as anyone - other than the trio - knew. What she'd done, speculation on who she really was, which produced a snicker from Briana. The article claimed the Nightingale to be somewhere between the ages of twenty-one to forty-nine. Though she couldn't complain, it was better for her to let everyone believe she was a young adult than have her real age come out, no one would take her seriously if _that_ happened.

Eventually, the article came to the reason why she'd gotten it - to find out some insight as to what the failed thievery was about.

"'_The reason is yet unknown … The culprit or culprits in not known … What the thief was after is not clear_'," Briana mumbled, taking it down on a mental note pad.

"_Whoa_ ... _Bree_ ... what _did_ you do last night?" Amanda questioned, surprised that the Nightingale had been made into something of a folk hero _and not_ the vigilante they were used to.

"As of right now, _I_ don't know what I've accomplished, other than stumble onto the biggest case so far in my life," Briana replied, the awe her voice held was only detectable to herself and anyone trained to look for that sort of thing. "Come on, let's get back to the orphanage, I've got some thinking I need to do."

"Well, whatever you do, Briana," said Johnny, following her lead and started to match Briana's determined gait, "be careful. I think the Nightingale is a little in over her head."

"I couldn't agree with you more, Johnny," Briana replied, knowing that Johnny spoke that truth and that things were going to be rougher for her from here on out, "Couldn't agree with you more."

**I require your input, so press the reviw button, and FWI I don't own anything having to do with Young Justice, except fan paraphernalia. Thank you for reading, **

**Rayner out**


	3. No Spoonful of Sugar could Make it Sweet

**No Spoonful of Sugar could Make it Sweet**

**Happy Harbor, Rhode Island**

**4:06 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Zatanna sat quietly in the Cave's library, alone with her thoughts. She had been there for most of the day seeing as she took online high school classes rather than actually going to a public school. It had helped her … move on with life, and being able to stay in a comforting place, such as the Cave, for schooling had definitely helped.<p>

She remembered when she'd lost her mother, and how something or other during the school day had rubbed salt into that fresh wound, how she had needed to cry in private but at a public school that hadn't been possible. Unlike here at the Cave, where she could camp out in her room when she needed to and still make straight A's.

At the moment though, Zatanna was studying something _far_ more interesting than geometry. The book she was poring over was an old one and had weathered many a reader. The musty smell of it reminded Zatanna of all the afternoons she and her father had spent practicing spells that challenged her.

_If only I could have his helped one more time,_ a stray thought whispered to her as she took apart the spell she was studying piece by piece to better understand it. A tear rolled down her cheek as she recalled the long afternoons that she'd spent with her father, and how she longed for more of them. But she quickly shook those cobwebs out of her thoughts, she needed to focus if she was going to understand the spell.

An echoed mummer through the hollow mountain alerted her to the arrival of Connor and Megan. With one quick glance at the clock on the wall, she realized that she'd been so caught up in her studies that she'd lost track of time.

Haphazardly, she gathered her things and made her way back to her room. Zatanna knew that about an hour from then - when all her teammates were at the Cave - combat training would begin. Lessons that she'd greatly benefited from in the past few months.

Her room was right next to Megan's, and except for the contents, there wasn't a difference between the two. She set her laptop and books on the desk that was off to one side.

Having deposited her study materials on her desk, Zatanna couldn't help but glance at a framed picture of her and her father. A vague memory of the scene the picture showed flooded her vision.

It was of the day that her dad finally started teaching her magic. Zatanna's mother had taken the picture of the two as Zatara taught, or rather attempted to teach, Zatanna one of her favorite spells: changing her wardrobe.

As tears slide down her cheek and it was only then that she realized that she'd been standing there for a full minute.

She _really_ missed her parents.

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**4:13 P.M EDT**

* * *

><p><em>Math<em>. It shouldn't have been that difficult for Briana, being one of her greatest strengths and all, but if she wasn't able to figure out where the equation went wrong than what good was having math as a strong suit?

She only sighed as she scanned the desk she and Amanda shared, looking for inspiration that would encourage her to continue. Briana's eyes lingered on a shabby photograph she'd tacked on the wall. It was the last family photo she'd taken with her now deceased relations.

A six year old version of Briana dressed in her Sunday best smiled out at her.

Next to the happy child was a young man about the age of seventeen, he was her brother: Brian. Even though she knew he'd been wearing his least favorite attire (he called it itchy and too proper), he seemed just as laid back as always and had a smile as big as the broad side of a barn door plastered on his face. His short brown hair was back in its usual unruly manner that she remembered, apparently he'd messed with it in the restroom before the picture - much to their mother's displeasure. And despite the reprimand that Brian had known he'd get from their mother, he'd worn the friendship bracelet that she'd made for him.

Behind him stood their mother, tall and proud, with her long brown locks flowing down past her shoulders. Briana thought that she looked beautiful that way, even if she only ever remembered her mother having her hair in a bun.

Next to her mother and behind Briana was her father. He was about a head taller than her mother. He looked very handsome, and Briana always thought that somehow she and her father looked alike, even if they weren't related by blood. One of his hands rested on Briana's shoulder, he'd always done that whenever she was nervous, or agitated, or scared.

_If only you were here, then I wouldn't have to …,_ she thought longingly before banishing those thought from her brain altogether.

Quickly, she turned her attention back to the reality she lived in before she broke down. She couldn't do _that_, not here where people could see. She didn't want to think about the moment that had drastically changed her life forever; she didn't want to confront those horrible memories that would cause her to cry especially when she was in a place where only the strong survive.

Listening closely, she began the task of distracting herself from those memories of the past. As usual the orphanage afforded a multitude of distractions, and considering that it housed twenty plus kid that made sense. From what she could hear it sounded like Ian and Isaac were up to their usual trick, but nothing too disastrous at the moment; Edwin Nigma was asking Silvia a riddle in an attempt to flirt which ultimately failed; Hailey was helping Daisy brush her hair, the two of them were practically sisters; and Jack was working with Troy Zeus on homework.

"How _could_ I have missed that?" she belittled herself as she reviewed her last Algebra problem.

It only took Briana a minute for her to redo the problem correctly. Once finished, she stuffed her notebook into her knapsack. With homework out of the way, Briana could officially start her investigation of what the heck was going on in Daleville, beginning with reviewing the events of last night that started this interesting turn of events in a new light.

She set her knapsack beside her guitar which stood at the foot of her bed, and got another emotional slap in the face.

_Snap out of it, Gale, this is_ no _time to get sentimental. You know they would want you to focus,_ right_?_ Briana asked herself to refocus herself.

Before coming into her possession, the guitar had belonged to her father. It was one of the few things that she'd been allowed to keep after their deaths. Of course, when she turned eighteen she'd come into her inheritance but that seemed such a long way off.

Her father had taught her how to play the guitar as well, and she was good at it too. So when she needed to blow some steam, or in need of a little extra money, Briana would go to one of the many parks in Daleville and perform.

Briana poked her head out of the doorway to her room in order to check to see if anyone was around before she opened the secret locker under her mattress.

Rummaging through her gear, Briana produced a black hard covered diary and a dusty shoe box. Both looked like nothing more than a treasure box and a secret diary, but that was what Briana had intended them to look like from the beginning.

Held within the all _too_ innocent looking diary were notes, reports, and case files that had accumulated over the two-year period that being a detective had been a part of being the Nightingale. It was one of the ways she kept her thoughts in line and made sure that she had the information she required when she needed it.

She kept the shoe box for the same reasons. Within it were newspaper clippings that held various bits of information. Most had something to do with the Nightingale or odd occurrences in Daleville that she had deemed worthy of keeping. The rest contained information about villains who had had activities near or in Daleville, she wanted be prepared to identify them should they return to Daleville.

Grabbing a pen from the desk, Briana began to write in the diary, starting with recalling exactly what had happened in the fight with the thief. From the first moment of engaging the masked criminal, Briana had known that whoever her opponent was had skills unlike anything that she had ever encountered before. In the spotlight of recent knowledge, whoever she'd fought was more unusual than she'd first thought _and_ consequently more dangerous.

_Whoever I fought was definitely after something of extreme value, but what?_ Briana reasoned, trying to recall environmental details which she'd neglected to pay attention to.

Thinking hard, she began to summon every memory of the other night that she could.

_The night had been a perfect one, with rain that would certainly clear up by morning and with a beautiful sunrise as its finale._

_She'd been patrolling the industrial distract and Nightingale would be heading home in perhaps an hour if the events of the night had been kinder._

_From her vantage point about twenty stories above the ground, she saw a truck arriving at the S.T.A.R. Labs facility across the street. Of course, she thought this slightly odd, but had told herself that this was probably nothing that she should stick her nose in, and until the collapse of the armed and armored guards, it _had_ been._

_Staying in the shadows, Nightingale waited a moment to assess what had occurred and the best course of action on her part. About fifteen seconds after the guards had been (hopefully) temporarily put out of commission, a shadowy figure leaped from its hiding place which had been higher than Gale would normally go._

_Steeling herself for the inevitable combat ahead, Nightingale used her whip to quickly and quietly get across the street and down to the height she needed._

_"I don't think that belongs to you," she declared making her presence known as she gracefully landed atop the truck._

_"You're not who I expected to see, but I suppose you'll do," a female voice drily replied and the Nightingale was momentarily caught off guard._

_What did this person mean by that, Gale hadn't the slightest idea, but she didn't have time to think about that for a moment later she was forced to backpedal in order to avoid a powerful kick._

_Immediately, her mind began to work at a quick and calculating pace; instincts jumped into action as she moved into a defensive position, waiting for her assailant to make the next move in hopes of deriving a pattern._

_A moment of tense silence blanketed the air around the two combatants; one could almost feel the thickness of the air move when the villainess stepped forward to punch. She was thankful for the distance between her and her opponent as she block an unusually strong attack, and now it was her move._

_Thinking strategically, she tested a series of simple punches aimed at the thief's abdomen and head; and few kicks mostly meant to throw the villainess's balance off. Only one lucky punch actually managed to strike the female thief._

_"Hmm, I was hoping for _something_ more of a challenge," the villainess commented, undoubtedly trying bait Gale, but it didn't work._

_"Don't have anything to say, do you?" she questioned deceivingly. Probably switching to the tactic of try to distract her, but Nightingale wouldn't allow that._

_As the fight progressed, Nightingale mentally noted details of the would-be thief. She was under six feet tall, but nonetheless menacing; very flexible and agile; and had what seemed like unruly black hair with a cat-like mask that made her face look like a lion with a black mane that had breathed in Joker's laughing gas. Her clothing was skimpy, but the loose green garb flowed with her movements, never prohibiting any attacks aimed at Nightingale. Whoever this person was, she was definitely not a normality in Daleville, but the Nightingale had no time to ponder that as she was forced to back flip to a more advantageous location._

_"Aw, crud," she mumbled as the lion faced thief followed her and pulled a pair of sai seemingly out of nowhere._

_"Wish this play date could last a little longer, kid, but I've got things to do," she said and proceeded to charge at Nightingale._

_Focusing on her efforts to dodge, Nightingale by some stroke of dumb luck managed to evade the attacks and land a few well aimed punches and kicks of her own._

_Before long, she knew that there had to be a quicker way to end this. An idea flashed through her head, and she expertly hide a smile as she cart wheeled out of the way of a thrust aimed at her stomach._

_Just as Lion Face turned to attack again, Nightingale pulled out her whip, and, _crack_, a very painful blow hit its mark on her opponent's hand, causing Lion Face to drop one of her sai in pain._

_"I'll commend you, kid, not many are able to do that and live," said Lion Face a dangerous growl. _

_Nightingale narrowed her eyes and got into a defensive position applicable with her whip as she thought of a way to bring this battle under her control. But she needn't have, for just as the villainess picked up the sai a siren's shrill cry sounded through the night air._

_"Consider yourself lucky, hero, the next time we meet you _might_ not be so fortunate," said Lion Face before dropping a smoke pellet and disappearing into thin air, much to Gale's surprise._

"Hey, Bree …_ hello in there_," Amanda said, getting Briana's attention.

"What do you want?" she growled at Amanda not enjoying the interruption.

"Just wondering of you knew that laundry duty is your's this week and people want it done now."

"_Perfect_."

**Keystone, Missouri**

**3:23 P.M. CDT**

* * *

><p>Wally stared longingly out the window of his last class, he knew full well that all his teammates were already probably already at the Cave. He hated living in a different time zone sometimes.<p>

He listened impatiently to the monotone lecture drag on. The school day only had a few minutes left, _but_ his teacher was talking as if they had another thirty minutes to go. This only confirmed his theory that high school was designed to torture teenagers.

Slowly but steadily the seconds ticked by and the day unwound itself. As soon as the last bell sounded, Wally raced to his locker and out the front door despite the scolding he'd get from his Uncle Barry.

Once out of the school, he ran as fast as he could towards his home in the adjacent Central City.

He zipped into his neighborhood in under five minutes and was at his home thirty seconds later.

"Hi, Mom, I'm home," he called as he finally slowed down.

But not for long, almost immediately upon entering his house Wally made his way to the pantry. Grabbing what he wanted for a snack, more likely a meal, Wally zipped to his room and was in his Kid Flash uniform in … well a flash.

"Later, mom, going to the Cave, be back soon," he called stuffing a few of the bags of chips he carried into his wrist band cupboards. "Well, I should be back soon if the bat doesn't send us on a mission."

"Oh, no you don't, mister," his mother's scolding voice said as she came down stairs. "Have you done your homework?"

"_Aw_, mom!" he groaned slumping over. Though he knew he wouldn't be let out of the house without his homework finished, he had to try. "Come _on_, they need Kid Flash."

His efforts were futile as he had known. Mrs. West was not about to let Wally leave the house, for they both knew that if he didn't do his homework now it'd never get done.

"And Wally needs to get his homework, and do so now."

Wally turned around and marched sullenly up to do his homework quickly without making it look like chicken scratches.


	4. What Little Information We Have

**What Little Information We Have**

**Happy Harbor, Rhode Island**

**4:37 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Robin arrived at the Cave last of the three members who didn't live there. He felt very, <em>very<em> peeved, _and_ the blitzkrieg going on between Artemis and Wally was _not_ going to improve his mood at all. Even with his expert hacking skills and honed reasoning, Robin hadn't been able to find enough constructive information about the Nightingale to satisfy his curiosity.

The Daleville PD police reports coupled with information from the Bat computer had given him very little to work with, at least it had been far more useful than the speculation running around on the internet and in newspaper articles.

From what little he had found, he reasoned that the Nightingale could be as old as eighteen but no younger than ten. The information concerning her fighting skills was rather sketchy, but Robin was sure that she had a fair amount of acrobatic training and was knowledgeable in an assortment of martial arts. Her weapon of choice was a whip, which doubled as a form of transportation. Though rather inconclusive, he was certain that she used another weapon capable of stopping a foe in their tracks. She also seemed to have an ability to fade into shadows as well as if she had been trained by Batman.

"What'd you booby trap my diet soda for anyway?" Artemis screamed at Wally.

"Because I wanted to see if it actually worked," replied the speedster sheepishly.

Robin groaned._ Maybe _it hadn't been such a good idea to give the _Encyclopedia of Immaturity _to Wally for his birthday. Though settling a dispute via cardboard warfare had made life at the Cave considerably more interesting, especially if Artemis decided to participate (she usually won, of course.)

"'You wanted to see if it'd work'," Artemis mimicked. "Well, you should have tried it on someone who doesn't have long hair." Her voice sounded dangerous and venomous.

"But you're the only one who drinks diet soda!" protested Wally.

"_Urgh_, you're impossible to live with!" shouted Artemis as she stormed off to go practice her aim.

* * *

><p>Artemis was not angry. <em>N<em>_o_, she was furious. Ever since Wally had gotten that _stupid_ encyclopedia, she had been the target of many pranks. Though she wasn't the only one subject to these stunts, she _was_ getting the brunt of it.

Her aim could testify to that. Whenever she was angry at something, _anything_, target practice was always the way to take it out on a physical object. The poor targets at the Cave were about ready to be thrown out and replaced, not that she cared _any_. New targets only meant that she'd have a new challenge of destroying those too.

As Artemis started to calm down, she began to ponder over the newspaper article she'd read. She couldn't help but wonder if they were going to have the Nightingale as a new teammate. Batman had to have seen the paper and he must see the potential of the bird girl.

If he'd recruited Artemis, what _was_ to stop him _from_ recruiting a vigilante?

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**4:53 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p><em>One<em> … _two_ … _three_. Briana's bola wrapped firmly around one of the basement's support beams, exactly where she'd wanted them to land.

The mid afternoon light that seeped in through the windows hardly dissipated the shadows all around her. Not that she minded any, shadows were often her ally when night fell and the Nightingale took fight.

Faster_, I've got to throw faster,_ Briana commanded herself. With the low hum of the washing machine and the rhythm of whatever pop song was playing on the radio, the sounds of Briana's training session were completely masked and that was all she could do at present. Train and prepare for whatever the night had in store for her.

"_S.T.A.R. Lads, delivery at night via armored truck, protected by heavily armed guards, thief with cat mask - 'Lion Face' - capable to taking down said guards with no effort, Lion Face armed and very dangerous, Lion Face after something big, definitely big money._" That was the list of facts and clues that Briana had been able to glean from her memory, but she needed more if there was to be any chance of solving this mystery. Briana kept revising these facts as she practiced her aim.

The detailed picture of a local thief who went by Scourge - Nightingale's number one enemy - had just about had it. If only taking down the punk in person were as easy as practice. Not to mention, Briana predicted that Scourge would make a thievery attempt sometime that night, but she wonder if recent events had changed any of that. If his targets had changed at all, for Scourge was always after items that would bring in the most cash. Well, she would have to find out later on.

Briana walked to the support beam and untangled the nylon cord that connected the three golf balls that were spray painted dark green. She had been throwing her home made weapon for over thirty minutes now, after having made a futile attempt to make heads or tails of the many questions running around inside her head.

Briana knew that in order to understand why Lion Face was after … whatever, she needed more facts. From what she could figure, the best place to start looking for motives was to find out who Lion Face actually was and what item S.T.A.R. Labs was receiving. After those facts were uncovered, the connecting threads would surely follow.

* * *

><p>A smirk graced Amanda's face as she snuck out of the orphanage. This unprecedented event that Briana had gotten herself into would certainly work in their favor.<p>

With Briana preoccupied and her deduction skills aimed trained on the mystery at hand, she and Johnny might actually stand a chance of throwing a surprise party for Briana's birthday. They had been planning and scheming for months, only discussing it when Briana was deep in a nap or somewhere a good hundred yards away from them.

This year they had actually been able to hide their plans from Briana thus far, something that they had never been able to do before.

The reason Amanda thought this success possible was they had planned the process of hiding this information months before even starting to plan the party. Now they just had to conceal it just a little longer as they executed the last stage of their scheme.

She was sneaking out of the orphanage to meet with Johnny about the most important detail of them all: Briana's presents.

Amanda knew that it had been several years since Briana had gotten a birthday present or a present in general. From what Amanda knew of the kid, Briana probably hadn't gotten one since her parents' deaths; almost a complete seven _years_ ago give or take a few months.

During this stage, Amanda was in charge of formulation a list of ideas while Johnny's objective was to create the requirements and limitations of the presents.

They had both agreed though that the present or presents could not in any way, shape, or form be useful to the Nightingale. While, yes, they would have done almost anything to help Briana's nightly endeavors, Amanda and Johnny agreed that Briana needed to act her age sometimes. But no matter how many times they tried to get Briana to be a kid, they'd failed.

What Briana could possibly desire that would qualify as a toy, preteen paraphernalia, or a form of teenaged aimed entertainment eluded Amanda. She wondered if Johnny had any thoughts about what action figure or toy Briana could want. But that didn't mean she hadn't gotten _some_ ideas.

Maybe they could get her some new clothing or something that would help Briana in her hobbies that didn't include nightly battles with thugs and coming back as tired as snot with a continuous stream of bruises, cuts, and other wounds that Amanda was sure that Briana had received but refused to seek medical attention.

Amanda could help but wonder as she made her escape if this would have been her reaction to a little brother or sister. If she would have been as passionate about a younger sibling's protection as she was Briana's, (even though she had little to no control over Briana's safety.) If she would have gone to all this trouble to make a sibling's birthday their special day; a day that celebrated them and their originality.

She knew that her parents had probably never considered having another child because Amanda by herself had been an overflowing handful. Not to mention being a good cop of Gotham City didn't ensure the safety of any family member.

That was the very reason that Amanda had ended up in Daleville and not a Gotham City orphanage, to keep her safe.

* * *

><p>Roy Harper, also known as the hero Red Arrow, stared blankly at his laptop computer in dismay and anger. The <em>Gotham Gazette<em> had gotten one thing right about the Nightingale; there was _more_ information about the Batman than there was about her. Whether that was because Batman had been a hero long enough that there was more knowledge about him or if the Nightingale was just _that_ good at covering her track, Roy didn't know.

Quite frankly, Roy wouldn't have given a _damn_ about the reason right then, because he needed to know more about her and he needed to know now.

Internet search after internet search turned up fruitless. Either he got information that he already knew or that was completely incorrect.

He'd seen what she could do from the rooftop of a Wayne Industries building. The Nightingale, whether she knew it or not, had gone toe to toe with Cheshire and come out practically unscathed, a feat that even he had yet to accomplish. Though that only caused him to wonder: why? Why hadn't Cheshire killed the Nightingale? Why had Cheshire let Nightingale win?

More importantly, why hadn't _he_ intervened? He'd just sat in the cover of darkness and watched the fight commence, and done _absolutely_ nothing. Roy had let an amateur hero, a copy-cat, a wanna-be superhero, something _worse_ than a sidekick, fight a deadly assassin.

**I honestly wish I could have written more, but I am lacking in inspiration right now. Please feel free to leave a review telling me what I did wrong or right or any suggestions or tips you've got. I promise the Team and Nightingale will meet up before chapter ten if not before, and hopefully a little more action and less cabin fevor in up coming chapters. I am also having trouble with the Team dynamics.**

**Rayner out**


	5. Something is Brewing, and 'Bout to Begin

**Something is Brewing, and 'Bout to Begin**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**5:23 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Johnny watched as his younger brother - Peter - gallivanted over the playground equipment, pretending to be one or other of the heroes in the Justice League. This week's favorite hero was none other than Batman, but considering that just yesterday afternoon Peter was running around their family's apartment with an orange baseball cap on, armed with a slingshot and a bag of marbles pretending to be Speedy, that opinion could change at any moment.<p>

Peter was enjoying himself as he ran around with their dad's black sweater with the hood over his head chasing one of his friends who was apparently supposed to be the Joker even though she … was a she.

Normally on a day like this, he would be waiting for Briana to pass along any information he'd gathered from talking with his mother, but for the past few weeks he and Amanda had rendezvoused at the park at discuss their plans.

It was a nice change of pace considerably. He didn't feel as edgy when he met with Amanda to discuss something so mundane, even if Amanda treated it like some top secret government project.

And, for her, maybe it was top secret; Amanda did have the hardest job of the two of them. Not to mention, she lived not only under the same roof as Briana but she shared a room with Bree. She had to live with a detective who could solve mysteries faster than his dad and _that_ was saying something.

Though Johnny did have a few problems with his part in the plan, such as what on earth was Briana's sweet tooth like? From what he'd witnessed, Briana's appetite was _considerably_ healthier than the average person her age, but _then again_ Briana wasn't your average thirteen year old.

He'd figured, since the party was really just him and Amanda having a meal at a nice park that all they would need was a twelve pack of soda, a cake of some sorts, and enough money on hand to buy ice cream from a street vender.

What type of cake or soda pop escaped Johnny's comprehension. He'd never seen Briana buy any type of sugary drink from a vending machine, _even_ at school parties she always drank water, and he couldn't remember what Briana had liked to drink before she'd become the local Songbird superhero. Heck, he couldn't even remember whether she liked chocolate or vanilla ice cream, it had been so long since he'd seen Briana let herself enjoy _something_.

Briana, for the most part, was all work and no play. It had been this way from the beginning of their friendship.

He remembered when he'd first met Briana. It had been the day of her family's funeral.

For a funeral, it's _awfully_ sunny,_ he thought, following his father, mother, and older brother to the burial site. He hadn't known any of the Thomas' personally, so Johnny would rather have been playing at the moment._

_In his pocket, he fidgeted with a Batman action figure; there was nothing else he could do as he stared in boredom at the person speaking over the three black caskets with flowers on them._

_Off to his side, Johnny saw his mother sob into his father's shoulder who had a stoic expression painted on his face, _yet_ somehow it was sad. His brother - Stephen - had a look of sad anger in his eyes, but, though it seemed as if tears were swelling in his eyes, Stephen refused to cry._

_Johnny didn't really understand why his family looked so sad, they hadn't known the Thomas', _right_? _

_Well, in any event, Johnny hadn't known them, so he was extremely bored._

_Eventually, the speaker finished and people began to leave or put more flowers on the caskets._

_"Come on, Johnny," his dad said, beckoning for him to move along._

_Johnny couldn't have been more happy that this was over, he wanted to go home so that he could play with the toys that he'd left behind. Unfortunately though, his parents wanted to talk with someone._

_He followed his mom and dad up to another person dressed in a black suit. He was tall, perhaps an even six foot, and lean; and had a shrewd expression on his sad face with a pair of penetrating blue eyes. For some reason, the adult reminded Johnny of a bald eagle, perhaps it was the fact that he _was_ bald._

_Beside him was a little girl with short black hair, possibly seven years old. She looked as if she had been crying and she was shying away from practically everyone._

_His folks and the eagle guy (whose name he later found out was Mr. Jenkins) talked, about what, though, Johnny really wasn't paying attention to. _

_The child behind Mr. Jenkins looked out from behind his leg every so often._

_"Who are you?" Johnny asked out of the blue, interrupting the grownups' conversation._

_"Be polite, Johnny," his mother scolded him for asking such a brass question._

_"_What_?" he protested. "I just want to know who she is."_

_"_Johnny_," his father warned in a growl._

_"I-I'm Briana," stuttered the girl. "Who are you?"_

"Hey, Johnny, sorry I'm late," said Amanda as she hurried over to the park bench that Johnny sat on.

"No, actually, you're just in time," replied Johnny as he scanned the playground for Peter.

**Happy Harbor, Rhode Island**

**5:34 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Zatanna let Artemis fume, knowing that there was no point in trying to talk with her when she was <em>that<em> mad, and maybe wait 'til Artemis showered. From what she had seen of the prank, it looked like the soda pop had done a number on her hair.

There was hardly any point in attempting to reason with Artemis when she was _so_ furious. But it'd been an hour since the prank, so Artemis should have cooled off by now.

Or at least that was what Zatanna hoped as she made her way to the target hall. She could hear the decisive _twang_, _thunk_ pattern as Artemis continued to practice.

"You okay?" Zatanna asked as she entered the spacious room.

"No, not real, do you know how _disgusting_ that was?" Artemis grunted as she nocked another arrow on the bow string.

"No, but I can imagine it," she replied as she watched a volley of arrows hit their designated targets.

"Why's he have to be _so_ annoying?" Artemis asked, pulling the string of her compound bow back for yet another time.

"Because…" Zatanna had to think for a moment. She really didn't know why Wally and Artemis were at odds, so Zatanna only offered, "Because he's Wally."

"Then why does he choose to annoy me?" she reworded her actual question.

"Honestly, I don't know, but I _do_ know how to get back at him," Zatanna hinted.

"_What_ do you have in mind?"

* * *

><p>"Just <em>what<em> did you think you'd accomplish by pulling that stunt on Artemis _anyway_?" Robin questioned a panicky Wally as he divided his attention between his warm ups and their conversation.

After having seen the foul mood that Wally's latest prank had put Artemis into, Robin could see why Wally was panicked. He was now on high alert for any retaliatory pranks that Artemis could pull, though Robin wasn't _sure_ if he intended to _help_ or _hinder_ Artemis. Quite possibly both, it would definitely be beneficial just so long as it ensured that Wally would quite prank-ing people.

"I don't know, I don't know," Wally replied, he sounded as if he were on the verge of speed talking.

"Let me _rephrase_ my question, _did_ you _not realize_ that pulling such a prank as you did on Artemis is the _equivalent_ of signing your death warrant?" he asked, rather annoyed at Wally for actually trying to pace a hole through the floor.

"Um … not really," was the answer Robin got. "Oh man, _oh_ man, _oh man_, what am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?"

"You could try being less mischievous, and more chievous. I would _also_ advise apologizing."

"_Like_ that'll help any."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**5:48 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Briana sat on her bed, thumbing through <em>Daily Planet<em> clippings, trying to see if she could find anything more than what she already knew about Lion Face, though she was having little luck.

She had pretty much ruled out the possibility of this being the villainess's first job, _yet_ there was little that she could find that matched anything the thief was capable of.

Then again, Briana could be doing so poorly because her eyelids were drooping _dangerously_ low. She'd forced herself to stay awake despite the fact that she usually took a nap before dinner to compensate for the amount of sleep she knew she would miss that night.

Normally, Briana would be napping, even when she was helping in a police mystery, but something about this one _just_ bugged her. Whatever was happening in Daleville was far from over.

In fact, Briana had wondered if it had _but_ only begun and to complicate matters, she knew that this would be by far the most dangerous endeavor she had yet undertaken.

_Johnny was_ right_. I_ am_ in over my head,_ Briana thought, looking over a newspaper article about the peace summit that had taken place in Taipei.


	6. Road Kill Stew

**Road Kill Stew**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**6:37 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Amanda slipped back into the orphanage feeling that whatever hope they had of getting Briana to enjoy her birthday was slipping quickly through their fingers. This scheme was making Amanda rethink how much they actually knew Briana.<p>

_Yes_, they'd been Briana's friend for the longest time and trusted each other with life threatening secrets, but it would seem that they knew the Nightingale better than the kid behind the cowl. Amanda didn't know what Briana would want for a present and Johnny couldn't even guess at what sweets Briana liked.

_I guess it's time to do a little digging, _Amanda thought as she started up the stairs.

"Hey, Amanda," called Jack after her from the kitchen. "Could you tell Thomas it's time for dinner?"

"Sure thing, Blonde," Amanda teased in reply.

"Will you quit calling me that?" he hollered back causing Amanda to snicker at his dislike for the nickname she'd given him.

Amanda opened the door to her room and found a pleasant scene before her. Briana was sprawled out on her bed, deep in a nap, she was loosely gripping a newspaper article, and many more were spread out around her with the shoe box beside slightly ajar.

If there was ever a time when Amanda thought Briana looked closest to the kid she _should_ be, it was when Briana napped. Not when she slept, never when she slept at night, but when the kid let down her guard long enough to nap. Unfortunately though, she didn't completely looked her age, Amanda could still see the pale scar that was barely visible as it ran up the length of Briana's forearm.

Amanda had once asked who'd given Briana that one so she could give them a beating upside the head and beyond. Out of the large collection that Briana had, this particular one was the most gruesome, so far as she knew anyway. Briana had told her that Scourge was the source of that scar and it was foolhardy to try to find him because Briana hadn't been able to do that, plus the fight Briana had receive that _nasty_ present from Scourge was one that Briana felt she was lucky that she hadn't gotten her arm broken.

Even when sleeping like a baby, Amanda could see both the hero and the kid, but maybe this was a healthy combination of the two. Either way, Amanda _very_ much desired a camera, because for as long as she'd known Briana she knew how hard it was to catch the kid in such a relax moment.

But alas, all good things often come to an untimely end, so cautiously Amanda attempted to rouse Briana. Amanda didn't exactly like waking the kid, not because she wanted to Briana rest (well actually that was part of but still not the _main_ reason) but because it was dangerous to wake Briana up.

Once, Briana had come back to the orphanage after an especially rough night, and she'd fallen asleep as _tense_ as a _cat_. So when Amanda came to announce that breakfast was ready she'd ended up on the floor with her arm in a position _dangerously_ close to breaking. That had taught her to find a new tactic of waking Briana.

"_Bree_…," she said, hoping that the thirteen year old would react to her name.

_Good grief, the kid must've had a_ really _rough night,_ Amanda thought as she grabbed her pillow with a firm grip.

There were usually three tactics for waking a slumbering Songbird.

One: pour water on them. They should wake up almost instantly and will also be in a rather unattractive mood, but because of the papers all around Briana and the knowledge of how important they were to the aspiring heroine, Amanda decided against that option.

Two: pull the covers off them and yell. This works well in the morning, but since Briana was not under her bed clothes and yelling really wasn't the proper way to wake a person from a nap, so Amanda wasn't about to attempt it.

Three: use a pillow to hit the bird girl from a safe distance.

This was the option Amanda opted to go with today because it was one safer and two slightly quicker then option number one plus it was less wet. Also it didn't prompt Briana to try anything out of revenge … well at least _not_ as much.

So Amanda promptly gripped the pillow and prepared for a hefty swing at Briana's head, hoping that she didn't have to think of something else to wake the kid up.

_One … two … three,_ Amanda thought and swung on three. It was much to Amanda's surprise when the pillow never hit its target _but_ instead traveled through the space where Briana's head used to be.

It shouldn't have surprised her much that Briana was awake and aware of what was happening, but Amanda could not restrain the _yelp_ of surprise that escaped her lips.

Briana laughed at Amanda's surprise; its purpose was mostly to reassure Amanda that the kid felt no malcontent towards her for the attempted attack. This was something rather rare, considering that Briana's laugh was an uncommon thing to be heard in the orphanage. Just a laugh or a snicker was a rarity to Amanda, but a genuine laugh was something that she had yet to behold.

"How did … how were you …."

"Reflexes, Amanda, something I've been sharpening for years. Even before I became the Nightingale, in fact."

_Well, something's put _her_ in a good mood,_ Amanda thought secretly before asking, "So you were awake?"

"Yeah, have been since you came in," Briana said as she gathered the newspaper clippings in an organized fashion and deposited them in the shoe box.

"Then why didn't … _oh_, never mind." Amanda gave up on questioning Briana since it was obvious that she might _not_ get a _straight_ answer. "I'm guessing you know its chow time. What is it, anyway?"

"A goulash of some sort, possibly with some more flavor this time since Daisy deemed us worthy enough to use the spices from her window garden," Briana answered offhandedly as if it were common knowledge but_ to Amanda_ this was all _very_ new.

"How do you know this stuff?"

"I pay attention when others don't." Briana shrugged. How a kid with such a brain could be so modest about it was beyond Amanda's understanding.

* * *

><p>Briana really didn't know when she had fallen asleep, but that didn't change the fact that she now felt refreshed. If the meal was as plentiful as she hoped, then Briana would have a stomach-full of good grub and be as nearly as prepared for the night looming ahead as she could be.<p>

Reaching the spacious room with numerous school-style (or the "mess hall" as many dubbed it), Briana's nostrils caught the scent of warm French bread and the smell of their usual goulash cooked with an Italian flare. This was going to be one of the most generous meals that she'd had in a long time.

Briana wondered what had put Mr. Mathews - their caretaker and a bit of a stealing scumbag - in such a good mood that they were having a plentiful meal.

Though, just as quick as her nose registered the smell of good food, her ears heard a rather … _interesting_ song being sung lustily by the Crane twins as they encouraged other to join in.

"_Road kill stew,_

_Road kill stew,_

_Tastes so good,_

_Tastes so good_

_You wait at the edge of the interstate _

_You wait for a critter to meet its fate,_

_You take it home and you make it great,_

_Road kill stew."_

Briana cringed. She'd been the one who made the song up and start the tradition of singing it whenever something distasteful was put before them. It had only been a joke, because what choice did they have but to eat whatever was put before them.

_Leave it to the twins to pervert something harmless, _she thought taking a seat and joining in the ribaldry.

Silently, Briana thanked God for the meal as she scrambled to get some before it disappeared into other's bellies.

"Everybody, everybody," Mr. Mathews called out trying to be heard above the talkative noise to no avail.

"Everyone, _listen_ _up_!" Hailey's high pitched, annoying yell _was_ heard above the noise.

"Thank you … Hailey," Mr. Mathews said awkwardly before getting to the point. "Everyone, this is Vicki Vale. She's going to write an article about our orphanage."

Standing beside Mr. Mathews was a beautiful blonde woman with a shrewd pair of eyes. Briana noted with _displeasure_ that the reporter did not look all too pleased to be there.

From what Briana knew of Ms. Vale, the female journalist enjoyed doing investigative pieces rather than civil ones.

Somehow, Briana didn't think that it was a _coincidence_ that the Nightingale had ended up in the _Gotham Gazette_ and Vicki Vale had come to Daleville to do a story on their orphanage. It _just_ didn't add up correctly.

"When it rains, it pours," Briana mumbled to herself, averting her eyes from everyone trying to remain unnoticeable.

**Happy Harbor, Rhode Island**

**6:43 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>To say Wally was nervous would have been an understatement. Wally was <em>paranoid<em>.

He knew he'd gone too far with his prank, way, _way _too far. Artemis was going to flay him alive for his recent antics and boy _did_ Wally know it.

Why hadn't he seen it earlier? Why hadn't he thought before he prank-ed? Why? Why? _Why_?

By the time dinner rolled around, Wally had nearly worked himself into a _panic_ in anticipation of a retaliatory prank.

_Please let dessert be okay. Please let dessert be okay,_ he silently hoped as he cautiously headed for the kitchen.

As usual, Mondays were the team's night to have dinner together, so everyone was staying at the Cave later than usual. Unfortunately though, it also made the night an optimal target for pranks.

_Please let the Snickerdoodles be_ okay, he prayed to the powers that be, hoping that his precious Snickerdoodles were unsoiled.

With extreme caution, he peered around the corner of the corridor, checking to see if the coast was clear.

"What are you doing?"

Wally let out a _yelp_ of surprise. _Good Lord_, how he hated it when the Boy Master of Stealth did that.

"_Will you_ _quit doing_ _that_?" Wally snapped after slightly calming himself.

"If I stop being a ninja, will you stop being a speedster?" Robin promptly returned with his usual grin.

"No."

"Then that settles that," Robin said before entering the kitchen.

Hesitantly, Wally followed his best friend, still wary of the imminent threat of a prank.

Though being a kid with ADD, Wally's mind soon hopped skipped from an alert state of mind to a mesmerized one. There on the counter was a tray of fresh baked Snickerdoodles.

The tantalizing smell wafted passed his nose and his mouth watered in anticipation, but unfortunately though he never got the cookies, or dinner in fact.

"_Team_," Batman's voice sounded over the loud speaker, "_report to the mission room for you next assignment._"

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**6:59 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Johnny sat at his family's dinner table, listening with an earnest interest to what his Uncle Travis - the Daleville police commissioner - had to say.<p>

The topic, _of course_, was what the Nightingale accomplished last night. Travis was talking about what he'd seen on the S.T.A.R. Lads security tapes and how the Nightingale had to be some kind of martial artist to have stopped the thief as she had. He said that would help narrow down who the Nightingale could be and Johnny had to smile.

_The only kind of martial art the Nightingale _really _practices is gymnastics,_ he thought to himself as he took a bite of the chocolate cheese cake being served for desert. Though Briana did dabble into Karate and Jujitsu when she had the chance, her main focus was gymnastics which she still participated in even after her parents' death.

"So what was the thief after?" Johnny asked casually. If he knew Briana, she'd be by in a couple of hours to see if he'd found out anything that could possible help her.

Travis shrugged. "Funny thing. The people at S.T.A.R. Labs won't tell, something about it being top secret or Justice League business."

It took all the effort Johnny had and _more_ to keep from chocking on the cheese cake. _Top secret_? _Justice League business_? He could barely keep his eye from bulging at the thought of what Briana had stuck her nose in.

_Good Lord, what_ has _Briana gotten herself into?_ he thought and resolved to find out more information.

"I only hope the Nightingale knows what she'd doing or we may end up finding out who she is by taking the mask off her dead body," Travis mumbled while skillfully maneuvering a forkful of cheese cake into his mouth.

"If you ask _me_," grumbled Stephen, Johnny's older brother who was a rookie officer in the force, "the Nightingale deserves any pain she gets, people should let the police work stay with the police, not go gallivanting over rooftops dressed like every night was Halloween."

"You'll start liking the Nightingale when she saves your hid from some criminal or other," Travis returned, causing Johnny to wonder whose side was Travis on anyway. Sometimes Travis was up in arms over what the Nightingale did and other times he was defending her. Maybe it was just the situation she got into that gave the Nightingale a bad name at the Miles' dinner table.

"Uncle Travis, you can't be _serious_? The Nightingale's a _vigilante,_ _and_ by extension, a _criminal_," replied his brother.

"Sometimes you got to wonder, what would happen if the Nightingale _didn't_ do what she does?" Travis said slowly, thinking over his own words as he said them. "Now I'm not saying that what she does isn't illegal, but when you look at the superheroes Pete's into you got to ask yourself is _this_ how they became what they are?"

Johnny looked over at his five year old brother, who was playing with one or other of his action figures under the table. He'd often pondered over the same question, what _would_ Briana become?

"What do you think of the Nightingale, Johnny?" asked his mother, trying to change the topic.

"_Oh_ … _ah_, she's okay, I guess. I mean she's saved my life more than once, so she couldn't be that bad?" he offered, hoping that his family would buy it.

"Yes, she certainly has," agreed his mother. "You wouldn't mind helping me clear the table, Johnny?"

"Not at all," he eagerly agreed. Any chance to escape the dining room when the table topic was the Nightingale was _always_ welcome.

* * *

><p>Briana let out a sigh of relief; dinner hadn't been <em>half<em> as bad as she'd expected. Vicki Vale hadn't asked her anything and as far as she could tell Ms. Vale hadn't noticed her one bit, which was exactly what she wanted.

It had been as she'd expected. With the Nightingale in the _Gotham Gazette_, Daleville and its local heroine were getting more attention than she liked. _Too_ _much_ of a good thing can be _bad_ for you.

As per the evening routine, the oldest members of the orphanage's population congregated in the kitchen to decide who got kitchen torture session. Dishes was what it would normally be called, but for one person to do all of them before the nights out _was_ torture.

Though Briana was young enough to still have the privilege of skipping this duty, she went _anyway_. She'd been there the longest, and knew how hard and messy this form of torture was.

The way of deciding was a time old tradition for them: drawing straws. Well, really toothpicks, but what's the difference?

In a disgruntle mood, Amanda, Silvia, Troy, Edwin, and Clara Thorne took a toothpick. Briana was the last to take one from Jack's hand, just like she always was.

On Jack's count of three, everyone checked if they had the shortest toothpick.

"_Just_ my luck," Briana mumbled. Was everything against her getting a few hours sleep before patrol?

"_Aw_, has the little baby gotten the shortest toothpick?" cooed Clara and Briana threw a glare in Clara's direction to shut the mean girl up for the night.

Thankfully, Clara's roommate - Silvia - did _not _join in the taunting or there could have been more trouble than any of them would have liked.

One by one, the others cleared out as Briana gathered her work together.

Just when she had thought she was alone in the kitchen, someone cleared their throat.

"Yes?"

Looking over her shoulder, she saw to her surprise that Jack had stuck around.

"Would you like some help, Thomas?" Jack offered and Briana's stomach did an _involuntarily_ back flip.

Lately, it's been doing that if Jack so much as looks at her and Briana couldn't make heads or tails out of this … unusual feeling. Half of her mind was sure that it is not a good feeling and the other half _wanted_ it - _craved_ it - but Briana just didn't know what to think or do with it.

As best she could, Briana forced those feelings out of her mind and accepted Jack's offer. Any help was welcome when it came to dishes.

"You wash, I'll dry?" he clarified.

"Sounds good." She shrugged in return and forces herself to focus on the task at hand.

The work was done nearly thrice as fast as it normally would have taken Briana to get it done and during that time Jack started a conversation.

Somehow, he always managed to put her at ease. He was the only person, besides her brother, who was ever able to do that.

She actual started enjoying herself when Mr. Mathews walked in followed closely by a disinterested Vicki Vale and Briana suddenly was on high alert again.

"Ms. Vale," Mr. Mathews said as Jack and Briana paused in their work. "This is Briana Thomas, one of our brightest here. She's musically inclined, very athletic, and two grade levels above her age group."

"_Impressive._" The journalist raised an eyebrow at Briana's summarized list of achievements. Though Briana was very concerned, she plastered her best smile on her face and offered a water withered hand to Ms. Vale, who in turn shook it and asked, "If you don't mind, I'd like to interview you, Ms. Thomas?"

"Umm…" Briana paused and looked at Jack.

"Go ahead, I can finish up here, but you owe me, Thomas," he replied.

Briana handed him the dish cloth and followed Vicki to a more suitable area of the orphanage to do the interview.

* * *

><p>Jack sighed as he finished the dishes. It had been a <em>whole<em> lot more pleasant when Briana had been there, but at least it was over and now he began another form of torture: helping Hailey with her homework.

It wasn't that bad, but sometime Hailey could get a little annoying, _especially_ when he was late. He'd told her that he would work with her right after supper, but he hadn't; so now he was going to be subject to her torture.

"Okay, squirt," he said, entering the, more or less, living room of the orphanage where Hailey was situated, "I hope you've started. Let's see what you've got done."

But instead of the usual flurry of "I don't know" and "I need help", Jack got: "You like Briana."

"No, I don't," Jack returned before he could think of a better answer.

"_Yes_, you do."

"_No_, I don't."

"Do too."

"Do _not_."

"Do _too_."

"Do – _oh_, never mind, let's get your homework done, shall we?" he said, ruffling his sister's blonde hair which was in pony tails.

"You like _her_; the more you say you don't, the _more_ you prove it," Hailey persisted and Jack gave her a glare that was a hybrid of stunned and annoyed.

He was about to return her comment when she continued, "Say what you will to float your boat, Jack'o. It's your love life not mine, _but_ as _your_ sister, I have a right to interfere."

_Girls and_ their _weird logic_, he thought to himself as he directed Hailey back to her homework.


	7. I'm Not going to Lose it Here

**I'm not going to Lose It Here**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**7:04 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p><em>Amanda Martin did<em> not _like it, not one bit. _

_Losing her parents because it was their job was one thing, but _this_ was a whole different ball park and _yet_ it all made sense, sort of._

_For the past six months, Amanda had been stuck with a quiet, undersized ten year old for a roommate, who seemed to be the _shiest_ person on the planet and was scared of everyone. Though sometimes that was _not_ the case; sometimes the kid would act like she had suddenly found long buried courage at the oddest time, _but_ just as suddenly as it would appear, it _vanished_._

_She hated having the_ _kid as a roommate, the kid _never_ wanted to talk, _never_ wanted help on anything (and for someone whose two grade level above their age group that was extremely odd), and _never, ever_ wanted to be friends. The kid was altogether boring, or so she'd thought._

_The kid acted as if she would let everyone waltz right over her. A loner by all definitions of the word, and Amanda _hated_ it._

_Amanda had hoped to get an opinionated, spirited, and most importantly, _sociable_ person for a roommate. _But_ instead she got _Briana Martha Thomas. _A kid who would not stand up for herself even if she was being accused of murder. A kid who desperately wanted attention, _but_ shunned love and friendship when it was offered. A kid who seemed to look at the world around her and hate, _no_, loathe it._

_But, _now_, on that fateful early autumn night, Amanda doubted all the assumptions she'd concluded about the kid._

_"_What_ are you doing?" _

_"_Eep_," a startled cry leapt from the kid's mouth. Amanda had _finally_ caught the kid with her hand in proverbial the cookie jar._

_It had started three nights ago when Amanda had had a nightmare about her parents' death, she'd woken to find the kid had gone somewhere and the window leading to the fire escape was ajar._

_Amanda tried to reason herself into thinking that the window was as such because Briana had gotten hot and had not closed it properly, and wasn't in bed because she had gotten up to use the restroom. _But_, when the kid did _not_ return, Amanda's theory was quickly blown out of the water._

_Now Amanda, being Amanda, wanted to know where the kid had gone, so she quietly combed the orphanage for her. Curiously, she found hid nor hair of Briana, and Amanda, being Amanda, knew something _interesting_ was happening. _

_Just _what_ though? Amanda _was_ determined to find out._

_So, after two nights of forcing herself to stay up late hours, she'd finally caught the kid returning from … _wherever_._

_"What are you _wearing_?" Amanda questioned as her eyes adjusted to the darkness that the kid seemed to blend in with expertly._

_For the first time since they had met, Amanda saw emotion on the usually stoic face of Briana. An odd elixir of surprise and fear cured the unreadable look from Briana's system._

_The ten year old was wearing what looked to be regular street clothes, mostly black, but _then_ Amanda noticed the dark green symbol on the kid's sweater and her eyes _tripled_ in diameter. Ever since she came to Daleville, Amanda had seen that symbol in _almost_ every issue of the _Daleville Herald_. That symbol belonged to none other than the Nightingale, vigilante of Daleville._

_The symbol looked similar to the Batman's insignia, but this one had kinder edges and looked different enough to qualify as original._

_Held within the kid's hands was a black cowl that looked extremely similar to something that Catwoman might wear, minus the ears of course._

_"If you tell _anyone_, you'll regret it," promised the kid and Amanda can tell there was sincerity in Briana's voice._

_"_Huh_?" Amanda's surprised that the kid had suddenly grown a back bone in the space of a few spare seconds._

_"You're a cop's kid, _I'm_ a vigilante. There isn't much difference between you and the cops," said the kid with a glare that could have rivaled Batman's._

_"_You're_ the Nightingale," she said and the kid's glare intensified threefold._

_"Isn't that obvious?" _

_"But you're a ten year old." _

_This was starting to get mind boggling. How could a freaking undersized ten year old beat the crap out of the Daleville criminal element and _not_ get _killed_? _

_"If you have no more pointless things to say, I'm going to bed," the kid declared after a long silence._

_"But why?" _

_Amanda was _stunned_, to say the least. This kid was so calm about this discovery, as if Briana had everything in hand._

_Briana sighed, as if it annoyed her and _yet_ there was something about her stance that made Amanda think that Briana didn't fully know herself or hadn't quite put it into words._

_"If you _could_ have stopped your parents from being killed, _would_ you have?" the kid asked suddenly, and in an instant Briana didn't sound like a kid anymore. She sounded like an adult within that instant _and_ a _wise_ adult at _that_._

_Amanda didn't have a lack of an answer. "Yes, of course I would have."_

_"Well, I'm trying to make sure others don't have to be asked that question. _I'm_ trying to stop bad guys from destroying the only family some people have, like they did mine." _

_Twin emerald spheres hardened with age beyond their time look up at Amanda, their expression _just_ barely readable. They're looking for understanding, but have nearly given up hope of finding any._

_"But you could get yourself _killed_," Amanda protested softly but somehow she knew it would not sway Briana one way or the other._

_"It's a risk I'm willing to take," the kid replied dryly._

_For the first time in a while, Amanda was at a loss for words. How a kid had come to such a real world conclusion at the tender age of ten was beyond her._

_Amanda, for a few moments, was alone with a whirlwind of thoughts and questions, but when Briana winced as she pulled on her pajama shirt on Amanda _had_ to do something._

_"You're hurt," Amanda said, scrambling out of bed._

_"I'm fine," the kid growled, but she, being Amanda, would not be deterred._

_"Let me see," she demanded._

_"I'm _fine_," Briana insisted, but the flinching of muscles as Amanda put a hand on her shoulder told Amanda otherwise._

_"_No_, you're _not_," Amanda replied trying to mimic her mother's tone when dealing with any scrapes that Amanda got and apparently it did the trick for Briana conceded to allow Amanda to look at the damage._

_With a stubborn glare, Briana allowed Amanda to remove her shirt. Though it _was_ met with some resistance, Amanda finally succeeded and found something she _definitely did not_ like._

_On Briana's back was a long, thin cut. Upon further inspection, Amanda knew that this was the work of a knife and a very, very sharp knife. Luckily, it wasn't too deep or Briana would have needed stitches. Beads of blood trickled from the wound and fall down the ten year old's back as it scabbed over._

_Amanda pressed her lips into a thin line as she wracked her brain, forming a mental list of what she needed._

_"_There_! You happy?" Briana moodily demanded._

_"No, I'm not. Wait here, I'll be back," she commanded before quickly going to another part of the orphanage to collect what she required._

_Amanda returned swiftly with disinfectant wipes and as many band aids as she could find. She wasted not a moment, and before the kid hero had any time to protest, Amanda had ushered her onto a bed and began to bandage the wound along with any others she found post haste. _

_It took at least thirty minutes to repair the battle damaged bird girl, but Amanda found herself getting to know Briana better in those thirty minutes _than_ she had in the last six months._

_"You know," Amanda said with a yawn as she handed Briana her pajama shirt, "I've always wanted a sister."_

_Briana's head snapped round to look at Amanda so quick that she thought that she had said something wrong. So it was _completely_ unexpected when she received an unusually strong hug. Before Amanda knew quite what was happening, she was returning the hug._

_"I had a brother once, but I've never had a sister before," Briana said, looking into the kid's eyes again Amanda saw hope._

_"Neither have I, kid," Amanda returned as the two crawled into their beds._

_A smile graced Amanda's face; this was the start of a beautiful friendship._

_Yes, indeed, it was the start of a beautiful friendship, as well as a crazy,_ never _ending adventure, _Amanda thought to herself as the memory gripped her mind while she rummaged through anything that could help her quest.

With Briana preoccupied with the dishes, Amanda took advantage of what precious little time she had to discover Briana's preferences on presents and junk foods. Though it had been rather unproductive so far.

Well maybe not, she did come to the conclusion that Briana was definitely a bit of a pat rat, but most of what she kept though was Nightingale related.

_This is pointless,_ Amanda thought as she pocked her head into Briana's help of the closet.

It was littered with clothes in an organization pattern that only Briana knew. Along with that were a few boxes on a shelf, what they contained Amanda didn't have a clue. She would look into what they were later, but one in particular caught her eye.

The label on the plain, brown cardboard box read: "B.N.T's stuff."

At first glance, Amanda would have thought that it was just Briana's initials missing a line on the M, but when she looked closer Amanda saw that it was _not_ Briana's initials.

"No … _way_," Amanda whispered in awe.

Careful not to disturb anything around the box, Amanda removed it from its place.

Contained within was an odd assortment of items that Briana probably held very dear. What she noticed most was a plain looking journal.

_This could _definitely _be useful. _She opened the journal to the front few pages and nearly dropped it due to its contents.

Written neatly in a unique cursive style was: "_This Journal belongs to: Brian N. Thomas_."

Of all the things Amanda had expected to find among Briana's possessions, this was least among them.

A journal written by none other than Briana's older brother was a significant find indeed and probably the most valuable one that Amanda had ever made.

Amanda returned the box to its place, and reverently started reading Brian's journal.

From what Briana spoke of her brother, the two had been _extremely_ close and if anyone would know Briana's likes or dislikes, it would be Brian.

_Alright, Brian, let's you and I have a postmortem conversation,_ Amanda thought jokingly, taking notes down in a spare notebook.

**Somewhere over Connecticut**

**7:23 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Robin waited impatiently as they flew over the countryside. The team would be shortly arriving in Daleville.<p>

Their mission was simple: protect the lab from further break-ins, but Robin had his own agenda, sort of.

If the Nightingale was anything that he supposed her to be, she would be there too and then … they would have a nice little conversation. Hopefully, he'd get the information he wanted from her.

In the meantime, Robin had to sit through a rather _unjoyable_ flight to Daleville.

Of course, Wally was complaining about the fact that he hadn't had dinner. It seemed like Connor and Megan were having a telepathic conversation. Artemis and Zatanna were discussing something that was causing them to giggle. Kaldur was either ignoring everyone else's diversion to pass the time or meditating. So Robin was left alone with his thoughts, more or less.

"Are we _there_ yet?" Wally immaturely whined for the umpteenth time and a collective groan could be heard through the cabin of the bio-ship.

"Will you put a sock in it, Kid _Impatient_?" Artemis snapped, voicing what everyone felt. "We'll get there when we get there, so shut up."

Robin noted with a mix of displeasure and amusement that Artemis was crabbier than usual. The retaliatory prank was coming soon which reminded him that he had yet to decide if he was going to _help_ or _hinder_ Artemis in her endeavor for revenge.

For Wally's own safety, Robin knew that the pranks needed to stop. Who knows what could happen if one of the pranks angered Connor. Luckily, that hadn't happened ... yet.

"I can't shut up, there's _nothing_ to do," groaned Wally overdramatically.

"_Then_, find someone else to annoy, Kid Boredom," Artemis countered and so began another rapid fire argument.

Gradually, Robin tuned out the argument between the should-be couple. With nothing better to ponder, his thoughts turned to the Nightingale.

Though many things confused and amazed him, the thing that impressed him most was that the Nightingale had survived thus far. Whatever her present age was, the Nightingale had started her heroics at a young age and hadn't been killed. The only way to survive in this business was to either have superpowers or to have the ability to scare the crap out of the criminals you take down.

Nightingale definitely did _not_ have metaphysical abilities, so that only meant she was able to terrify the criminal element of Daleville _but_ good.

How did she accomplish that, though? From what Robin had unearthed, it would seem the Nightingale had never been seen once by those whom she fought or at least not every clearly. She used tactics similar to his own, but adapted them to her style and resources.

Robin wondered what he'd find when they got to Daleville, what the Nightingale was like, and if she could be something more than a vigilante.

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**7:34 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Briana answered very question Vicki Vale asked with a calm voice and the illusion of cool headedness, but inside every instinct that had been carefully honed over the years was collectively <em>screaming<em> to get the _hell_ out of there.

If Ms. Vale had any relative idea of what the _true_ age of the Nightingale could be, then Briana was in danger of being discovered.

But on the flip side of this coin, if Ms. Vale _didn't_ know then Briana could distance herself even _further_ from what she turned into come nightfall.

Either way, she was on a risky edge, but there was no way out of it. _Not_ without arousing the suspicions of a very perceptive reporter, that is.

"So," Vicki continued only _half_ interested, "what are your _extracurricular_ activities?"

Briana paused. Faking that she had to think about all that she did for a moment, but in reality she was actually thinking of what _not_ to tell the journalist.

She would tell the truth, _mostly_, but Briana would omit some less known, yet key, facts about herself.

Take, for example, karate. Yes, she did practice it when she could, _but_ Ms. Vale didn't need to know that.

She could leave in that she did participate in gymnastics. That was an unavoidable fact, because the local gymnastics center was named after her family.

Of course, she'd talk about her musical abilities and how she used them to make a little extra cash.

"Well, let's see …," Briana replied. "I do gymnastics, play the guitar and piano, I love to sing _but _I am not that good at it, and I enjoy playing basketball."

She flashed Ms. Vale a smile, hoping that it would help end the interview sooner. From the way things sounded, they were almost at the conclusion.

"You like playing basketball?"

"Yeah, it's really fun, especially when the others get involved," Briana answered truthfully. Basketball was one of her favorite sports. She'd often tag team with Jack, and usually they beat their opponents to kingdom come by the end of the game. They'd know each other for so long that they knew the other's next move, if only that butterflies in the stomach feeling would stop showing up whenever they'd play basketball.

"Interesting," the journalist said. "So how did someone as bright as you end up in a place such as this?"

That was a question Briana would have rather _not_ been asked. A question that brought back memories, the kind that still haunted her nightmares and evoked tears. The kind that made her life a living hell.

If she could have answered any other question, even if it meant giving away her secret identity, as opposed to _this_, she would have.

Having to recount her family's death was something more feared than others discovering that she was the Nightingale.

Briana mentally withdrew herself from the conversation, trying to formulate an excuse for not desiring to respond to _that_ question, but luckily it was not needed.

"Never mind," said Ms. Vale, drawing Briana out of unwanted memories, "you don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

"Thanks," Briana managed to respond. She forced herself to focus on something else in order to recover as Vicki looked over the notes that had been taken.

"I believe that's all the questions I've got for you," concluded the reporter, "you can go now."

Briana let out a sigh of relief as she trudged up the stairs. Despite all naps she had taken over the course of the day, she found herself feeling tired again.

Thankfully, with the interview over, she could appease her body's desires by getting a few hours of sleep. Though she could only chance a few hours or she might miss whatever could occur during the night.

Once in her room, Briana fell onto her lumpy, hard mattress. She usually slept in her clothes and often didn't change into her pajama's until she returned from patrol. Though, there were times when she skipped coming back to the orphanage before the wee hours all together, and found a warm place to sleep. When she slept on the street, it was only possibly for an hour or so, but sometime more if she was there for a stake out. At those times, she would rest her eyes and listen.

Briana pulled the covers over her head and set her wrist watch alarm for the time she needed, and within minutes she was out like a light.

* * *

><p>Roy put the leftover pizza into the mini-refrigerator that came with the motel room, and began to suit up into his hero garb. The Shadows <em>always<em> finished their contract, so one or other of those sulking scum was bound to return to S.T.A.R. Labs tonight and he planned to stop it.

The only possible problem: the Nightingale. Damn _amateur_ could ruin everything and that was _exactly_ what he wanted to avoid. That _wanna-be_ didn't know what she had gotten herself into and if she didn't get out at the starting gate she could get herself killed.

Though, if there was one person in Daleville that could possibly help him, it was her. If he understood Cheshire as well as he thought he did, then he was certain that she had talked to the Nightingale as they'd fought, so it was possible that the copy-cat superhero could know more about what was going on than he did.

Despite what could happen during the night, Red Arrow had to stop the Shadows from getting … whatever it was that they were after.

Nightingale or no Nightingale, he _would_ stop them.


	8. With Wings, Take Flight

**With Wings, Take Flight**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**10:49 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Early evening had passed and night had fallen over the sleepy city of Daleville as the team arrived. Artemis wondered just what had been almost stolen but stopped by the Nightingale that would need protection.<p>

More importantly, why was her sister hired to _steal_ it? Taking into consideration the surroundings of the lad facilities, what the heck would be worth hiring the Shadows to steal?

The bio-ship landed on the roof of the lads and everyone filed out, or in one case _scurried_ out. She'd noticed that Wally had been avoiding her ever since his soda pop bomb. That was _perfect_! He'd be so _nervous_ - so _paranoid_ - that he wouldn't see it coming.

Thanks to Zatanna's inventive plan, they would embrace Wally into the next millennia. It was going to be a _hoot_.

Though, that was not what she should focus on. Wally would get a taste of his own medicine in due time, but right now Artemis had to focus on the mission or risk jeopardizing it.

On the roof to greet them was the chief of security for the S.T.A.R. Labs facility - Albert Morris - and the police commissioner of Daleville - Travis Miles.

"This is what the Justice League sends us?" scoffed the chief of security who was definitely _unimpressed_ with them.

"Relax, Morris, considering that our guardian angel's probably a lot like them, we shouldn't be complaining," defended the police commissioner, then addressed them: "Let's skip the introductions, and cut to the chase."

* * *

><p>"<em>Ngh<em>," Briana protested as her wrist watch broke the silence that surrounded the orphanage. It was time for patrol, but that didn't exactly mean she had to enjoy waking up.

The time spent sleeping had been refreshing, but it was often a luxury that she could not afford. She guessed that Daleville would need her assistance before the night was out.

So as quiet as she could, she slipped out of bed and stretched the sleep out of her muscles.

Looking out the easterly window, Briana saw that tonight would be a wonderful night. The sky was overcast and the moon was barely waking up with her. Luckily, rain was _not_ expected in the forecast. That was the last thing she needed on a night such as this.

Careful not to disturb Amanda, Briana opened her secret storage compartment and unpacked the gear that she deemed necessary for what the night's activities could bring.

Tonight would be _different_, different from anything else she had yet encountered.

An unusual enemy had arrived in Daleville. Though she would prefer _not_ to engage this villainess again, Briana wanted to know why?

Why this "Cheshire" had come to Daleville?

What was so important that something like "Cheshire" would be in Daleville?

What did S.T.A.R. Labs have that would attracted someone like the villainess?

Well whatever happened, Briana was determined to find out.

With her mind fixed on her goal, Briana slipped on her newly cleaned black colored jeans and pulled on her gray with black sleeves long sleeved shirt. She fastened her combat boots nearly in place and her gloves soon followed.

As an extra precaution, Briana placed homemade armor on her forearms, the protection was called bracers, or at least that was what she thought.

With the black armor securely in place, she selected three of her best bolas and carefully placed them in a pouch on her belt so she would be able to quickly grab and throw them if need should arise. Lastly, she clasped the metal buckle of her cowl under her chin along with a little padding, and secured her whip in her hip. With the last of her costume in place, Briana was now the Nightingale.

Before leaving, she looked in the mirror to be certain that all her hair was under her cowl. With that checked, Nightingale quietly unlatched the window and opened it without a sound, but _much_ to her dismay, she still managed to somehow wake Amanda.

"Where you headed, Gale?" her best friend questioned with a yawn.

Nightingale sighed. She should have known it would be useless to attempt to get out without alerting Amanda.

"_Whoa_, _ah_, Bree, are you going after Scourge or something?" Amanda asked taking notice of the armor that Nightingale wore.

"Or _something_," she answered. "Tonight's going to one hell of a night."

* * *

><p>Robin slunk through the shadows cast upon the rooftops getting a feel for the territory that he assumed the Nightingale knew well. Undoubtedly she was, or would be, in the shadows of these rooftops somewhere, but Robin had yet to see any sign of human activity.<p>

Presently, he found an advantageous perch where he could keep an eye on nearly all of the S.T.A.R. Labs facility. There wasn't much to look at though. At night nothing happened. The only people there were him, his teammates, and the cop who would be there all night to help them should they need it.

Actually from the way things appeared, the cop wouldn't be of much help if they were to need it. He was napping.

His name was Stephen Miles, Robin knew that because of the digging he'd done.

Miles was the Nightingale's favorite rookie officer on the force, if any of his guesses and the police reports were correct. Besides the commissioner and Detective Flynn Miles, the rookie had seen the Nightingale more than any other officer in Daleville. Heck, from what he'd read, even the youngest of the Miles family had encountered the bird girl.

Why the Nightingale was the guardian angel of the Miles clan, it was impossible for him to guess. Though maybe what she did in the situations involving the Miles' was for the best, considering that many members of the police force in Daleville were a part of the rather large family.

"_Anything to report?_" Aqualad asked via their telepathic link.

"_I'm bored,_" Kid Flash complained.

"_We know _that_, Kid Whiner, and no, Aqualad there is nothing happening over here,_" Artemis informed.

"_Nothing over here,_" responded Superboy.

"_I saw a cat, but that's just about it,_" said Zatanna.

"_I wish there was something happening over here,_" Robin supplied, then everyone went silent again.

Robin, because there was nothing better to do, surveyed the area again. Nope, there was absolutely nothing save for his teammates. Or was _there_?

* * *

><p>Johnny awoke to a certain bird pecking on his window. Usual, Nightingale had come to him first just to see where she should start patrol, where trouble was brewing, or, in cases such as this, what was happening that the public was <em>not<em> allowed to know about.

"_Whoa!_" He gasped when he saw that Briana had inverted herself somehow. Johnny opened his window to a smiling Nightingale, which was an unusual sight by far. "When could you do _that_?"

"I've been working on that for a while, _impressive_ right?" She sounded like Briana at the moment. Though Johnny knew that wouldn't last long, because it was all work and no play for the Nightingale. "So what's the latest?"

Ah, there was the voice that he was used to hearing when the sun went down and the moon rose. The Nightingale was blunt, calm in any situation, collected no matter what was happening around her, and cool headed despite the danger she could be in.

"Well, you're definitely in over your head," replied Johnny as he fished around in his desk drawer for some granola bars that he often gave Nightingale. "Uncle Travis came by for dinner tonight."

"The Commish?" The Nightingale moved her perch from precariously hanging from her whip to sitting on his window sill. "What'd he have to say?"

"Uncle Travis doesn't know what was being stolen, because it's 'top secret _or_ Justice League business'," Johnny said slowly, letting her take in the information. He hoped that it would result in the Nightingale finding an alternate activity until this blew over, but he had already known that it was a lost cause before he started.

"_Figures_, considering who the thief is," she replied calmly, and Johnny knew then that this information had already been known to her for a couple of hours, at the least.

"You know who the thief is?" he blurted out before he could think to stop himself.

She nodded, but didn't say anything.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" he questioned despite already knowing the answer.

"No, it could put you at risk and right now, that's something I'd rather avoid," Gale relied. For a thirteen (nearly fourteen) year old, Briana was very mature and Johnny could respect that decision.

"Alright, Gale, keep the information for now, but just don't get yourself killed," he replied handing her two granola bars.

"Will do, and thanks for the snacks. These are my favorite kind. See you later, Johnny."

With that, she leapt from the window sill and into the night. Johnny watched for a moment, she never ceased to amaze him.

The young heroine could fly when she wanted to, just give her a whip and a tall building, and she could soar.

"Wait, did Briana just say these were her favorite?!"


	9. No Turning Back

**No Turning Back**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**11:09 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>The night air rushed passed as Nightingale let herself fall only to narrowly catch herself before she hit the asphalt with her whip. Gale could hear the blood pounding in her ears and her breath can in ragged gasps; there was nothing more exciting or more dangerous than this, but it was a risk that she was willing to take.<p>

Johnny's apartment and the industrial district were practically at opposite ends of the city, so she could still perform a good portion of her patrol before going to S.T.A.R. Labs.

As she silently ran across rooftops and swung over the streets of Daleville, she uncharacteristically let her mind wander. Gale couldn't help but second guess her choice of tonight's activities.

Yes, there was a very high possibility of another robbery being attempted at S.T.A.R. Labs, but unfortunately _someone_ else could also attempt _something_ somewhere else in the city.

Scourge was smart. They both knew how to predict each other's moves and he would know that she was forced to make a choice on this night. Go after him and risk someone else getting hurt during her absence or go after a potentially larger threat and risk Lord knows what.

The real questions that she had been pondering for the longest time: was Scourge even going to strike, and if so where and when? But she hadn't an answer for them.

A scream drew the Nightingale out of her thoughts. Her eyes began to scan in the direction the sound came from.

In a stereotypical shady alley she spotted a mugger. Why people weren't more cautious when walking late was beyond her but then again she did know stuff that normal people wouldn't, so who was she to judge?

The mugger looked like he was built like an ox, and she hoped that he had the brains of one, otherwise she would get a few bruises ahead of schedule.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were _you_," she growled from the shadows that covered the fire escape above the mugger.

A smile crept over her face as she watched the mugger look around him, scared of his own shadow and the terror of the victim - a young woman in her mid to late twenties - lessen.

"Ni-Nightingale?" he stuttered.

_Well, isn't this idiot familiar?_ Peter Thompson: mugger, armed robber, and altogether a total _idiot_ in desperate need of a steady job. She had lost count of how many times she'd put him jail.

"What other _demon_ haunts your footsteps?" she hissed. Nightingale let that information sink in for a minute before she flipped down and slugged Thompson as hard as she could, which was very hard to say the least. The punch was merely a distraction, though, for she followed it up quickly by kneeing him in the stomach.

Thompson doubled over in pain, the weapon that he had held all but forgotten. To finish him off, she elbowed him in the temples and Thompson was out for the count.

"_Th-thank_ you," said the victim and Nightingale immediately withdrew further into the shadows but she did not leave, not yet.

"Go home," she commanded, permitting a slightly kinder tone to creep into her voice. "Call the police; tell them to come pick him up. Thompson won't be bothering you any longer."

Before the young woman could answer, Gale had jumped on a dumpster, grabbed hold of the fire escape, and hoisted herself into the air. The alley, like many in this part of town, was narrow, so she was able to jump back and forth between the walls in order to get to the rooftop.

"Thank you, _Nightingale_," called the young lady with confidence in her voice that she had not possessed a moment age.

"You're welcome," Gale whispered softly before again taking up her trek to the industrial district.

A small, barely noticeable smile appeared on the Songbird's face. This was the _reason_ she became the Nightingale, to ensure that those who could not defend themselves live, to allow families to grow and not fall apart because a member of it was murdered. To make sure that what happened to her did _not_ happen to others, and _maybe_, just _maybe_, she could make a difference in the world around her.

* * *

><p><em>Crunch<em> …. _Munch_ … G_ulp_.

"_Argh!_"

Artemis couldn't take it anymore! Wally's eating habits were getting on her last _nerves_. She understood that he needed to eat, what she _didn't_ understand was his need to eat _loudly_.

If there was a Shadow within a hundred miles, they would know that the team was here just by listening for Kid _Glutton's_ crewing.

"Will you quit eating like a starving dog; it's _annoying_ the crap out of me," Artemis growled at him.

"_What_?" Kid Flash blurted out with Hot Cheetos falling out of his mouth.

"_Ugh!_"

Was Wally so oblivious to everything? Didn't he understand that _covert_ meant _quiet_ and _quiet_ meant no eating _loud_ enough to be heard in the next county?

But, unfortunately, there was really no point in growling at Wally, so Artemis went back to inspecting her green compound bow. There was nothing better to do anyway.

* * *

><p>Red Arrow scrupulously scanned the S.T.A.R. Labs facility for the umpteenth time. He was beginning to wonder if anything was going to happen tonight, there seemed to be no activity other than Wally's eating, Artemis's growling, and the general activity of the team.<p>

From where he sat, Red Arrow could see Aqualad, Artemis, Kid Flash, and Superboy. He assumed that Miss Martian was somewhere on the premises in camouflage mode and from what he understood Zatanna was on the other side of the building, in the same alley where the cop was.

The only member unaccounted for was Robin, which begged the question: where was the Boy Wonder?

"And just what are you doing here?" a familiar disembodied voice asked from behind him.

Red Arrow should have known that Robin would find him if Robin wanted to talk.

"Same thing you're doing here," calmly replied the archer. "Trying to stop the Shadows from getting into the S.T.A.R. Labs."

"How long have you been here?" question the Boy Wonder.

"Since yesterday night," he replied.

"You were here when the attempted robbery took place?"

"Yes."

"What do you know about the Nightingale?"

* * *

><p>Nightingale alighted on a rooftop near S.T.A.R. Labs; from here she could see all of the facility. This was where she would be on stakeout, here there wasn't that much light so she could observe the night's sky when she found herself bored.<p>

She silently vanished into the shadows, becoming one with the night.

Her patrol had gone well enough. She had sent about twenty or so muggers to jail; stopped some idiots from stealing from ATMs, different shops that were opened late, and a _gas_ _station_; and stopped an odd number of misdemeanors and felonies that she had come across.

All was silent around the labs, nothing seemed to be happening. But when nothing _seemed_ to be occurring, something probably _was_.

Diligently, she scanned the area and spotted something, someone, but it was _not_ who she expected to see. Though hard to spot, Gale saw, or _thought she saw_, a teenaged male take _no more_ than two leaps to cross the roof of the three story lab building.

For a moment, she thought she was seeing things, but when Nightingale looked down in the alley bellow her and saw the super powered teenager with an S-shield tee-shirt on.

Once the fifteen second moment of amazement passed, Nightingale's eyes began to roam the area of the labs. She had seen this super teen before. He had been in the bridge incident some months ago when Superman saved a bus full of kids.

_Somehow_, she felt that where there was one superhero teen there had to be more. Presently, she spotted one … two … _three_ superhero teens. Much to her surprise, she recognized them. Aqualad and Kid Flash were two of them, she also recognized the greenish grey clad female archer from the snow fortress take down footage, but unfortunately she did not know the archer's name.

Flurries of questions rushed around in her brain. The question that she had been asking all day just got bigger. _What was_ going on in Daleville?


	10. The Scourge of Daleville

**The Scourge of Daleville**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**11:39 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Robin listened with rapt attention as Red Arrow told him what had taken place the night before.<p>

He surmised that the Songbird of Daleville must have some skill to go up against Cheshire and come out unscathed.

When Red Arrow finished, he asked, "Why do you want to know about the Nightingale?"

The bird boy had to think for a moment. Why was he so interested with the Nightingale?

"She's a person of interest on this mission," replied the Boy Wonder, but, in all honesty, he didn't know himself. Maybe because she was a mysterious figure that had only recently come to his attention or maybe because the Batman had pointed her out and that alone was saying something.

No matter what the reason, though, he was determined to discover the Nightingale's identity.

"You're trying to find her?"

Robin nodded. "Correct."

"Good luck with _that_, the damn wanna-be can disappear faster than I can shoot," Red Arrow told him. "_That's_ probably what's kept her alive for so long."

"Good to know," the bird boy answered.

* * *

><p>Aqualad stood at the door like a sentry. He took much delight in knowing that this mission was going smoothly.<p>

A quiet mission would be a nice change of pace. For the longest time their missions had teetered on the brink of failure until the last second.

Though the quietness of this mission did trouble him, if the assassin Cheshire was involved their mission's success or failure was of some importance to someone and it was unusual that Cheshire had yet to attempt to steal what S.T.A.R. Labs was holding.

What were the Shadows waiting for? Or was this merely a distraction for something else taking place in Daleville?

* * *

><p>Nightingale moved stealthily through the shadows, slowly circling the labs building. She wanted to know exactly who was in Daleville, and then the 'why' would follow presently. She had almost completed her sweep and was looking down in the alley on the opposite side of the building from where she had started.<p>

Mentally, she had a total of five heroes. The four she had previously spotted and the one in the alley below.

Though, the heroine below was not the only person in the alley. From her perch Nightingale spied a groggy police officer who had apparently had been napping a moment before.

Gale sat in the shadows as she observed the officer. She would like to know who he or she was and were they stood on the issue of her nightly endeavors.

All was silent around the labs, and it was having a calming effect. So Gale nearly jumped out of her skin when a shrill cry rang through the neighborhood.

_What the _hell_?_ she thought gliding through the shadows to investigate.

* * *

><p>"<em>What is that?<em>" asked Kid Flash.

"_Whatever it is, turn it off. It's too loud,_" Superboy said loudly.

While his team did not know what the sound meant, Robin _did_.

"_It's a burglar alarm,_" Robin supplied. Only one question crossed his mind - what was going on? If anything he had expected S.T.A.R. Labs to be broken into but someplace else?

"_A burglar alarm?_" a confused Artemis questioned.

"_Should we look into it?_" Zatanna wondered aloud, figuratively.

There was not a moment's hesitation when Robin answered, "_I'll check it out._"

* * *

><p>Nightingale landed in the shadows on the roof of the two story building whose alarms were blaring. From there she surveyed the scene before her.<p>

The police car that she had spotted earlier blocked off one entrance of the alley, while the other was blocked by a chain link fence.

Much to her surprise, the officer pointing a gun at the would-be thief was none other than Stephen Miles.

Stephen looked like an older, taller, darker haired and more muscular version of Johnny. He was the same age as Brian would have been if her brother still lived. Before Brian had … died, he and Stephen had been friends. She had always wondered if Stephen had become a police officer because Brian had been killed, much like she had become the Nightingale. The only difference between she and Stephen was he did good work legally.

Unfortunately though, Stephen's arrival only complicated things. Considering that most rookies always felt that they had to prove something to the other officers and the best way of doing that was by bringing in the most wanted criminals in the city, the top most being the Nightingale with Scourge as a close second.

There was another surprise that the scene behold, a more _dangerous_ surprise.

"_Scourge_," she growled softly.

The would-be thief was none other than Scourge. He was lanky, flexible in more ways than one, and completely unpredictable. He was at the least sixteen years of age if any of Gale's guesses were correct, and he had muscles that shouldn't be underestimated despite their size.

He wore a red ski mask to cover his face, and, for reasons beyond her comprehension, a black leotard with eerie red stripes on his forearms. Along with that he had on leather pants which were held up by a black belt that had multiple sheaths for his throwing knives and a number of pouches that held different gear which he used to get into the places he robbed.

"_Freeze_!" declared Stephen. "You're under arrest."

"_Am_ _I_, Officer Stephen?" Scourge questioned in a tone of voice that would have belonged to a fox if one were to talk.

Gale did not have any time to react or intervene when Scourge dodged the bullet that had been carefully trained on him. Scourge was quicker than either Stephen or Nightingale had expected, for not a moment after dodging the bullet he landed a flying kick on Stephen's chest.

The force of the kick sent Stephen sprawling backwards and his head collided with the hood of the police car. He collapsed, unconscious from the blow.

Silently, Nightingale _prayed_ that Stephen was alright. She would never forgive herself if one of her friends' siblings suffered the same fate as her own when she could have stopped it.

Even from the height she was at, Gale could see the murderous gleam in the black eyes of the villain. She could _not_ wait for any longer, she had to intervene _now_.

"_Hey_, Scourge," Nightingale yelled whilst materializing from the shadows. The blaring alarm had finally stopped. "Why don't you pick on _someone_ your own size?"

Scourge looked up at her with a devilish smile that obviously meant no good. As always, Scourge expected the Nightingale's challenge. "_Like you_?"

"Who _else_?"

Inwardly, she prepared herself for a grueling and painful fight. The two combatants were a physical match for the other and as for brains and trickery they were on par with one another, their willingness to do anything it took to win, however, were on different levels.

Nightingale would _never_ kill or severely wound her opponents, but Scourge was _willing_ to do all that and more. He would _kill_, though Nightingale had never known if he had ever done so. Scourge _would_ maim people, she knew _that_ a little _too_ well. She had gotten more than one scar from his throwing knives. He had been the reason she had crafted the armor she wore. Scourge had maimed more than one police officer who had tried to apprehend him.

For these reason and more, Nightingale did _not_ allow him a moment's preparation for the fight. Within seconds, she had landed on the police car and began to engage him.

Though she should have had the upper hand because she was higher than Scourge, he used the hood of the car like a ladder to get to her level and kick.

She staggered backwards to avoid the attack, but nearly fell of the car. Gale knew that Scourge wouldn't allow her regain her balance. Instead of attempting to stay on the car, she merely back flipped off, surprising Scourge with this maneuver.

Scourge would be on top of her again in a minute, so she took advantage of the space between them by bringing her weapon of choice into this conflict. Her whip was out and inflicting damage on Scourge as only a bullwhip could.

Her bolas would have brought him down faster, but she didn't want to risk using them until the end of the fight. Tonight she could _not_ afford to lose any of her weapons.

Whip _cracking_, Scourge backed away as the two combatants circled each other cautiously, looking for an _advantage_, an _opening_. Apparently, Scourge saw one first for he came charging at her.

She pulled her whip back and snapped it at his legs, but _suddenly_ Scourge wasn't there. It was a _trick_, a _feint_.

A heavy boot collided with her chest, and the wind was knocked out of her as she landed on hard pavement.

Yep_, I'm definitely going to feel that come dawn,_ she thought jokingly in order to liven up her spirit.

"Has the _little_ _bird_ gotten her wings _clipped_?" Scourge questioned mockingly, pulling a dagger out and pointing it in her face as he stood triumphantly over her.

"_Not quite_, Scourge."

Desperately, she grabbed his hand that held the dagger as she simultaneously lashed out as him as best she could with her legs.

Scourge would either have a bruised tail bone or back thanks to several of her awkward kicks that had accomplished their purpose: getting Scourge off of her.

Quickly, she rolled over on her stomach and grabbed her whip that she had let go of when Scourge had pinned her.

She only got at the most fifteen seconds of respite before Scourge was back on his toes and at her throat again.

The fight went on as it often did, with Gale cracking her whip to give herself space and then one or other of the two closing it again as they exchanged a flurry kicks and punches.

It was not long before both combatants were desperate to end the fight, so Nightingale _should_ have anticipated Scourge producing a throwing knife that glinted in the moonlight and throwing it just as she prepared to snap her whip.

"_Ah_!" She failed to restrain the cry of pain caused by the knife cutting through her glove and slicing flesh.

"Oh, did that _hurt_?" Scourge taunted cruelly, instantly letting her know that there would be no time to retrieve her fallen whip. "Then you don't know pain, little songbird."

Nightingale smiled slightly to herself. Good, Scourge supposed that by wounding her, he gained had the upper hand. He was getting cocky, _too_ cocky. He thought that he would win, but, like always, Nightingale would out think him.

This was exactly the frame of mind that she wanted Scourge in. Even with the wounds Nightingale had collected over the course of the night, she could win.

The smile vanished when Scourge took advantage of her moment's analysis to unsheath more knives and throw them.

Nightingale was up within moments and running quickly to evade the deadly projectiles. Finding that this was _not_ enough, she dove at the ground and tumbled to safety. Behind her she could hear the cold steel strike the wall behind the space she had once occupied.

She snapped her head round to see what Scourge intended to do next. Just like he should, Scourge charged at her.

Perfect, he was completely opened the strong kick she landed on his chest, and Scourge was completely caught off guard by her defensive attack.

The kick winded Scourge, but she could _not_ let him have _any_ mercy tonight.

_One_ … _two_ … _three_, she punched him repeatedly as _hard_ as she could without losing a beat.

He was about down, but Gale needed him unconscious. With her bracer, she struck a heavy blow to his temples and the _victory_ belonged to her.

With Scourge out of her way, Gale could finally get a moment to breath and nurse some wounds.

A pure smile graced Gale's face as an idea formulated itself in her head. This was _definitely_ going to rub Officer Miles the wrong way, but, _boy_, would Johnny have a laughing fit when he heard about this.

_Man, Stephen's_ _going to have a headache the size of_ China _when he wakes up,_ she thought as she inspected his tool belt and found what she was looking for.

Scourge was going to be looking for revenge when he got out of jail, but that didn't make any _less_ fun for her as she put a pair of hand cuffs on Scourge's wrists.

With Scourge in shackles, she slowly walked towards where she had dropped her whip. As she walked Gale tested her muscles to see what would cause her pain and what wouldn't. She scowled as she looked at her glove. A small, dark, wet patch had begun to form around where her glove had been torn. The throwing knife had done _more_ damage than she had thought.

She reached into her pocket to retrieve some medical gauze to patch up the wound, but she never got the chance.

"Who are you?" a disembodied voice demanded gruffly. Gale froze and her body went rigid, mentally she prepared herself for another round of pain.

"I am the Nightingale, Songbird of Daleville," she replied boldly, surveying the surrounding shadows. God only knew how much she _loathed_ being caught in the opened like this. She was completely venerable and blind to any attacks, but she continued confidently, "And you are?"

"A creature of the night more dangerous than you," the voice answered, giving Nightingale something more to analyze.

_Male._ The voice belonged to a male. Its owner had a rather big ego as far as she was concerned. Despite his efforts to sound older, the voice sounded like it belonged to a teen possibly no older than herself.

There were no other vigilantes in Daleville that she knew of. Could it be possible that one of the sidekicks had come to investigate the alarm as well? More than likely.

Silently, she kicked herself for not letting one of them investigate and take on Scourge instead.

"Then, creature of the night, what do you want?" She closed her eyes and let her ears do what her eyes could not: track any audible movements from the source of the voice.

"Your identity," he replied, and slightly infuriated Gale. But she did not let her emotions get in the way of discovering more about him. Just by listening, she could tell that he was moving, moving quickly and almost silently.

"Give me a good reason, and I _might_ consider _answering._"

Suddenly, all the barely audible noises she heard a minute ago ceased, like he had stopped moving, but, from behind her, she heard the person say, "Is this _enough_ reason for you?"

Nightingale spun on her heels, and got the _surprise_ of her life. She had expected to see one or other of the teen heroes she had spotted, but _not_ one whom she hadn't.

Materializing from the shadows was none other than Robin, the Boy Wonder, protégé of the Dark Knight himself.


	11. Redbreast vs Nightsinger

**Redbreast vs. Nightsinger**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**11:49 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Robin watched as the Nightingale's scowl faded into a look of surprise. She had probably been expecting someone else, if she had a clue as to what to anticipate at all.<p>

Though she did not let her emotions stay on display for long. Quicker than he had expected Nightingale regained her composure. He could tell that she would take more convincing to give her identity to him willingly.

"No," she intoned at him with an indifferent expression on her concealed face.

"Why?" Robin asked. He knew there _had_ to be reasons behind her desire to keep her identity unknown, but he had _not_ expected her to deny him this information. Robin would keep this information to himself - that was a given - but why she did not trust him was beyond his reasoning. He had hoped that the Nightingale would tell him immediately upon revealing himself from the shadows. That would have been probable of an amateur, but apparently the Nightingale was a little _more_ like a real heroine than he'd first thought.

"_Because_ having a secret identity ensures that I'll have privacy from people like _you_," she answered. "_Besides_ you keep your identity a secret in order to protect those you love, probably because they don't have powers or skills to protect themselves from your enemies. So _if_ I told you who I was, you would only be a liability to their safety."

He frowned slightly to himself. There was … _logic_ in her answer and plenty of it. Now, Robin _knew_ that it was useless to try to talk the information out of her. Nightingale had already clamed up and was being as coy as a cat.

He remembered her fight with Scourge. She was talented. Not _as_ talented as him though, but her fighting abilities would be enough to keep her alive for years to come. The fight with Scourge had been quite informing and had given him enough information to narrow down the list of people in Daleville she could be. But he _needed_ to know more if he was going to uncover her identity and he knew how to get it. Either by talking, which wasn't an option anymore, or by _testing_ her physical prowess.

* * *

><p>Nightingale waited tensely for the Boy Wonder to reply, and with <em>every<em> passing second she became more wary of him. She knew well the feeling of a cornered animal thanks to Scourge, and recognized it instantly.

Under normal circumstances she would have considered more keenly the idea of revealing her identity to Robin, but _these_ were no longer normal circumstances. Something _evil_ and _deadly_ was abroad in Daleville and she would bet her whip that the Boy Wonder knew a lot more about it than she did.

She had only seen two options. Tell him who she was and be told to stay out of it and never fight crime again. Or hold onto her _only_ bargaining chip, play _any_ card she got hold of correctly, and work her tail feathers off to come out on top. Given what was happening, she chose to keep hold of that tidbit of information.

Gale wanted to know what was happening in Daleville, her home, and she was determined to stop it, or die trying.

The cornered animal feeling never left her gut as she eyed Robin cautiously, looking of _any_ weaknesses among his many strengths. Nightingale had a notion that things were going south and she was _not_ thrilled by that idea at all.

While, _yes_, it would be something far more interesting than telling Amanda that she fought Scourge _again_, fighting the protégé of the Batman was _not_ on her bucket list. _Just_ meeting him would be enough to impress her best friend, but fighting him would be another matter entirely.

But, if Robin were to throw the first punch, Gale would be obliged to throw the second and find an escape route as quickly as possible.

From what she knew of superheroes, Nightingale was out matched on every front. He probably had an _arsenal_ hidden within his utility belt, while Gale's weapon only paled in comparison to his. She only had three bolas, a whip which was no longer on her person and _therefore_ not much help if she couldn't get hold of it, and … well that was it if she didn't count her bracers.

It was a given that he had the advantage on the physical plane as well. Robin was trained by the Batman for crying out loud, a hero who could probably out match a ninja.

Though she still stood a chance, _if_ she was careful. If the Nightingale could out fox the Boy Wonder as she had done to Scourge, she _still_ stood a chance at victory or at the very least a tie.

She waited for him to make the first move with a restless patience. And he did, for suddenly she _heard_ rather than she saw a shuriken flying through the air.

She reacted swiftly by side stepping out of the projectile's path, Gale was glad she hadn't waited for a split second for if she had the weapon would have hit her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the shuriken had imbed itself into the wall, but that was a mistake she shouldn't have made. The shuriken had been a _distraction_.

The Boy Wonder took full _advantage_ of her moment's lapse of focus by throwing a strong punch aimed for her torso, which she narrowly managed to block it.

"_Ungh!_" she groaned as she felt a wave of pain charge up to her shoulder. Nightingale felt blood _ooze_ more rapidly from her wound.

Damn it, _his glove's reinforced with something,_ she surmised quickly, but not quick enough.

Robin moved faster than she was _ever_ capable of. Before she could even begin to think of her first move, Nightingale's back was on hard asphalt for the _second_ time that night. Her instincts guided her as she rolled out of reach of any of Robin's attempts to pin her and was on her feet again in seconds.

_Well, that narrows off one fighting style that I shouldn't use,_ she mentally noted. Close combat was not an option in this match, at least for her.

* * *

><p>The Nightingale was <em>quick<em>. _Quick_ and _smart._ She had gotten to her feet before he had the chance to pin her down.

He had every possible advantage in this fight. He out matched the Nightingale on every level, but if he didn't act fast, she could find a way to win.

In her fight with Scourge, he had observed that even the _slightest_ lapse of concentration or mistiming on her opponent's part could spell victory for Nightingale and give her the opening she needed.

Nightingale was on her feet and waiting for him to make his move instead of attacking him. Her feet were shoulder width apart with her fists at her waist. This stance was familiar to Robin, _very_ familiar. He knew was called the Horse Stance. The Nightingale must have studied kick boxing, how else could she know this stance?

Good, this was the sort of information was exactly what he had been looking for.

Now all he had to do was engage her further in the fight to find out more about her abilities.

* * *

><p>Nightingale was thankful for the slight respite Robin granted her, <em>despite<em> that he was using the time to analyze her next move and abilities. But that was a two way street.

She carefully eyed where his hands were. Much to her delight they were nowhere near his belt, indicating that he probably wouldn't be using another gadget. Though it also made her a little more wary, for if Robin were to use another gadget she _may_ _not_ see it coming.

She needed to think of something and quick.

_Okay, so close combat's out of the picture, at least on my part,_ then what_?_ she asked herself silently, trying to discern her opponent's tactics from what little information she knew.

Without her whip, Gale figured that she had little _to_ no chances of winning against the Boy Wonder. Her whip was her trump card; her bolas stood a chance of slowing him down but she was certain it _would_ not be enough to turn the outcome of this fight in her favor.

Somehow, she _had_ to get her weapon, the only problem: Robin. He would undoubtedly attempt to keep her from getting it.

Just like their previous scuffle, the Boy Wonder struck first, swift and without warning. But _unlike_ last time, she was ready. She was ready for him, so she easily deflected his attack.

Something about it, though, bothered her. Robin's attack was _too_ simple this time and less quick. The way she deflected it was nearly the exact way she was taught to when she learned kick boxing. Fluidly, she blocked another kick and punch almost as if she were practicing in the Daleville dojo.

A secret smile appeared on her lips. Nightingale realized he was testing her. Robin was going easy in order to figure out what she knew.

_Alright, if that's how you want to play, then let's _play, she thought. It was her turn to test her adversary.

Nightingale's attack _had_ to be swift _and_ aggressive; undoubtedly he would realize what she was attempting by the first punch.

* * *

><p>The Nightingale reacted faster than he had predicted <em>and<em> she began to act on his advances. Robin noted that she switched to and fro between many different styles and blended them seamlessly together as if they were one style, not many from very different cultures. She was gifted in that sense, but despite her talent, Nightingale relied _heavily_ upon evading and unexpected blows rather than her fighting abilities.

Robin found that the harder he push her, the harder Nightingale pushed back. She was the underdog in this fight, but she would not give up, that was evident from her fighting, she was giving it her all.

He threw a punch at her abdomen, but she blocked him with her forearm. It was only then that he noticed a crude piece of metalwork acting as armor. The metal would surely hurt the wearer more than the attacker, but Robin found that had _not_ been the point of the block at little too late.

The Nightingale took advantage of the opening that Robin had foolishly left and struck at his chest. But instead of fist striking him, he felt an attack slightly more _painful_. The Nightingale knew her styles well, for instead of a simple punch she'd bent her fingers at the knuckles and kept her hands as straight as she could in a form called the Leopard Strike. Also she alternated between the Leopard Strike and striking with her palm in a form not unlike a Tiger Strike. She definitely knew her kick boxing.

Her rain of blows forced him back as he took every hit and this seemed to her intention all along.

* * *

><p><em>Pain<em> surged and coursed through every _muscle_, every _vain_ of her body. Gale didn't know how much more of this she could take, but she _had_ to end this one way or another. She was desperate to stop and escape.

Her endurance and energy had waned during her round with Scourge, and was on the verge of becoming obliterated with every passing second of her scrimmage with bird brain.

She needed to get some space between her and her adversary. This she accomplished by a rapid rain of strikes. Only one things was needed to complete this - an accurate front kick.

Gale was surprised that she was able to send the Boy Wonder stumbling backwards with her kick, but she did not dwell on her wonderment too long or else risk losing her advantage.

Years of gymnastics had trained her muscles to accomplish her evasive maneuver even under much stress and pain. She back flipped, but her feet never touched the pavement for she used her hands to propel her back towards her whip.

He recovered from her attack quicker than she ever was able to from an attack similar to the one she had preformed.

A smirk reserved only for victories and successful grades on impossible tests appeared on Nightingale's face. Robin seemed _both_ flustered and slightly distracted. His emotions were getting the better of him _or_ there was another cause yet unknown to her for his wavering attention. An annoying quip would do nicely to topple his emotions in her favor, and she knew _just_ the one.

"_Hey_, _Ding-Bat_, you're not doing too well tonight, maybe they should start call you _Boy Blunder_ instead."

_Yes_, it worked. Instantly upon hearing her challenge, Robin charged at her like an angry bull. Within two seconds, Gale had reminded herself to remain cool headed and was racing at the Boy Wonder full steam ahead with her whip trailing in her wake, ready to win the fight.

Just was they were about to meet, Gale was encompassed in a smoke screen, blind to everything about her. Nightingale stopped in her tracks, unable to see. She knew that there was no other option but to wait for Robin to strike first, but he never did.

She snapped her whip back and forth, trying to clear the smoke as she covered her mouth with the back of her left hand. Thankfully, the smoke didn't take long to disperse, so her coughing fit was short lived, but Robin was nowhere in sight.

"What is it with _these_ people and smoke?"


	12. And Far Into the Night

**And Far Into the Night**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**12:01 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Gale breathed a sigh of relief. Her struggle was over. She had been able to last long enough to get out with her secrets.<p>

Her muscles were on a sore scale of one to ten were at a _screaming_ ten point five. She longed for her bed back at the orphanage, but she still had some unfinished business.

Careful not to harm Officer Stephen any more than he already had been, Gale rolled him onto his back and checked his pulse. Nightingale felt a reassuring beat against her finger tips and thankfully Stephen's breathing was normal, he would be fine in an hour or so.

Dutifully, she checked Scourge and found that he was in good condition. The temptation to unmask the thief entered her mind, but she took no actions on that impulse. If the Daleville police managed to keep Scourge in jail until morning than most surely his identity would be in tomorrow's edition of the _Daleville Herald_. Besides there had been many instances where Scourge had been in a situation where he could have unmasked her but didn't, so she decided that she would respect his privacy.

Once the two unconscious men were accounted for, she surveyed the scene. _Not_ surprisingly, something didn't sit right with her.

The appearance of the protégés and sidekicks of the Justice League was _justifiable_ given the current circumstances. But the _coincidence_ of Scourge attempting burgle a building not far from the labs after what had happened didn't add up. It would have more like Scourge to attempt to get into the labs for whatever the original thief had been after. Plus it was uncharacteristic of him to set off an alarm, no matter how secure the building was.

The carnage of the end results of both fights did not provide even a single clue that would help her answer her ever growing list of questions. But there was something that Boy Blunder had left that might prove useful to her.

With weary muscles, Nightingale pulled on the shuriken imbedded in the wall.

The weapon was lodged firmly in the wall, Gale's hand flared with agonizing pain as she tugged her prize from the wall. The fight with both Scourge and Robin had physically _and_ mentally worn her down. The blood on her hand and glove was beginning to crust. Her tired muscles were ready to give up, but, just as she was starting to agree with her body, the shuriken dislodged from the wall and Gale stumbled backwards.

"Bet King Author had an _easier_ time pulling his sword out than I did with this," she mumbled under her breath.

Tiredly, Gale knelt down on one knee to rest and thoughtfully stared at the abandoned shuriken; pondering a sub list of questions. The foremost of which was _why_?

Why had the Boy Wonder disappeared when he was so close to obtaining the information he desired?

He'd been so intent on fighting until she was either unconscious or too weak to resist being unmasked. He'd been so close to victory, but had suddenly disappeared leaving only a shuriken as a token of his appearance. None of it made sense. Why had he left?

"The labs!" she said aloud, the cogs clicking in her brain. She realized that the only logical reason Robin would abandon his endeavor was to assist the other heroes.

_This was a_ distraction_, as stinking _distraction _that I fell for,_ she scolded herself as she slipped the shuriken into a pocket and prepared to leave.

Despite the protests of the flesh and blood in her right hand, she hoisted herself aloft using her whip.

She needed to know what was happening in Daleville and one of the best ways at the moment was by observing the young heroes deal with whatever was happening to the labs.

* * *

><p>Robin muttered some choice words under his breath as he trekked back to the labs. The alarm had been a distraction.<p>

This was _no_ coincidence. Somehow or other the Shadows had known about their mission and arranged the distraction.

Silently, he criticized himself for not returning once he was certain that Nightingale had everything under control. Undoubtedly, she could have handled everything back there and been back to the labs in short order, ready to help at the first sign of trouble.

But now he'd probably chased a most useful ally away, something that the team might need in due time.

Reaching the labs, Robin paused momentarily to take stock of what had transpired during his absence.

But a few stories below, the assassin Cheshire was on the attack. Artemis and Red Arrow fired volley after volley of arrows at her, but the projectiles - even the trick ones - did no good. They had to cease firing when Aqualad attempted to attack at close range.

While the archers and company were dealing with their cat problem, Miss Martian, Kid Flash, and Zatanna were trying to take care of a spider problem. Black Spider was weaving in and out of the different telekinetically moved objects and a speedster's attacks. Zatanna on the other hand was concentrating extremely hard on her incantation.

Last but not least, Superboy was handling the assassin known as Hook. Unlike everyone else he seemed to be having the least trouble with his target.

Analyzing speedily, Robin leapt from the height and into the melee.

* * *

><p>Artemis fired <em>once<em>, then _twice_, and then a _third_ time, but it useless. Cheshire deflected every arrow that she or Red Arrow shot with practiced ease.

She nocked another arrow and pulled the bow string back in record time, but did not release the projectile for fear of risking her teammate's safety.

Aqualad had created his water-bearers into a pair of cutlasses and was engaging Cheshire in a duel. But her sister blocked and parried with her katanas expertly. Cheshire's usual arrogant demeanor made it seem as if Aqualad posed no more threat than a practice dummy.

"_Where's Robin when you need him?_" she growled over their telepathic link, impatiently waiting for a clear shot at her sister.

"_I do not know, perhaps he has encountered another assassin,_" Aqualad reasoned, frustration apparent in his tone, per say.

"_Actually, I'm right here,_" Robin declared leaping into the fray.

* * *

><p>Nightingale felt tired and weak as she alighted in the shadows, the safety of the darkness encompassing her. She realized that it had not been the wisest decision to come back to the labs.<p>

How she had managed to fight both the tail end of her encounter with Scourge and Robin's entire scrimmage with a wounded fist, she'd never fully know. Her adrenaline had gone and any reserve energy felt far off. Her hand felt as if it were on fire from the damages Scourge had inflicted.

Though she had no time to inspect the damages, for far below the heroes she had seen earlier were fighting not one but _three_ enemies. Even from a distance, she recognized "Lion Face" - Cheshire. The cat-masked assassin was fighting the green clad female archer, Speedy (where he'd come from Gale couldn't guess), Aqualad, and Robin.

The other two looked like (and probably were) the two people who were involved with the disappearance of Selena Gonzalez, a CEO of some company.

The lean, lanky, and apparently spider-themed one was being handled by Kid Flash, one of the heroes she had noticed earlier but could not identify, and yet another hero who'd gone unaccounted for in Nightingale's count.

Lastly, a rather bulky man with a hook for an arm was combating the boy with the S-shield shirt.

"What the _hell_ is going on in Daleville?" Nightingale wanted to scream as she watched the most peculiar fight yet. The spider-themed person was actually shooting webs from his wrist and the one with the one with the hook for an arm shot the hook out of its socket.

* * *

><p>"Eit mih p-," Zatanna said just as Black Spider shot his sticky web substance hit her mouth blocking her voice and the spell.<p>

They were having trouble stopping Black Spider even _with_ Kid Flash's speed and Miss Martian's telekinetic powers. It just wasn't enough to avoid the assassin's quick attacks. Black Spider was hitting them from every side at unexpected moments.

"No more of that now, missy. Wouldn't want you saying _those_ bad words, now would _we_?" taunted the Shadow as he jumped out of Kid Flash's way. Kid Flash didn't slow down in time to avoid the head on collision with Miss Martian.

_Not good,_ Zatanna thought as Black Spider shot the silly string on steroids at the tangled duo, tying them up for the moment. With Zatanna preoccupied with getting her mouth un-gagged and her two other teammates trying to get the untangled, Black Spider moved on to assist Cheshire and Hook.

* * *

><p>Artemis and Red Arrow held their strings taunt, waiting for the precise moment to unleash their arrows. Robin and Aqualad were doing quite well at keeping Cheshire focused on the close combat.<p>

Suddenly, Artemis felt something hit her ponytail and yank it back.

"_Ahh!_" she cried as she flew backwards, involuntarily letting her arrow fly wildly into the air.

At a certain altitude it exploded, a shock wave went through the atmosphere, shattering window and setting off alarms.

"_Aw_, _shit_," Artemis said as a certain spider pounced on her.

* * *

><p>Confusion and disorder are the symptoms of a fiasco, and the melee between the Shadows and the team was showing these signs, at least on the team's part.<p>

The explosion that rocked the neighborhood also distracted both Robin and Red Arrow. Well, actually it spooked Red Arrow (though he later denied it) and he accidentally released his arrow, which Cheshire easily dodged, but Robin couldn't.

The punch arrow hit the bird boy in the chest, and knocked the air out of his lungs while sending his body into the asphalt. Undoubtedly there would be a perfectly round bruise on his chest as a token of the arrow's contact.

Once on his feet again, Robin saw that the fight had gone south of the border and all the way to Central America.

Hook had knocked Superboy into Aqualad when they'd both been distracted by the explosion. Artemis was trying to fight Black Spider to no avail. The rest of the team was trying to recover from their loss.

Robin had a decision to make: help Artemis or continue to fight Cheshire. Unfortunately, that decision had already been made for him; Cheshire had _disappeared_.

* * *

><p>Nightingale watched the heroes fight turn from well organized to chaos. She wanted to do something, to help them but what good would she have done with a bleeding hand and fatigued muscles with hardly any energy to spare.<p>

The explosion had shaken her a good deal and its effects on her were quite useful. The shock and surprised had jumped started Gale's mind into wakefulness.

Her eyes followed the three villains as they danced about the melee. She was content with watching at the moment; but when Cheshire broke off from the war zone, Nightingale knew that whatever the objective was in this plot the bad guys were about to get it, that is if she didn't do something.

Her energy may have been drained but her determination only hardened as she stood on the edge of the roof top.

She selected a bola from her pouch and took careful aim. Her bolas were more effective at close range but she didn't care, especially when something very important was at stake.

The golf balls whirled above her head ever increasing in speed, until finally she released her weapon.

Down, _down_ the bola went and did not stop until finally they tangled themselves around the cat-themed assassin's feet, stopping her before she reached the labs.

Gale smiled secretly. Despite not being in fighting condition, she still had assisted the heroes.

Her mind was quickly brought out of its triumphant mood as the shrill yell of police sirens reached her ears. That was her cue to go home.


	13. What Lies Between Night and Dawn

**What Lies Between Night and Dawn**

**Daleville, Connecticut**  
><strong>1:39 A.M EDT<strong>

* * *

><p>"Where the <em>heck<em> is Cheshire?" Kid Flash cried after doing a quick zip around S.T.A.R. Labs. Apparently he'd found nothing.

"She's not here," Robin sullenly answered as he began to look around the scene for clues.

But just as Kid Flash said, there was still an assassin at large and unfortunately, she had disappeared without a trance. Or had she?

"What's this?" Robin thought aloud as he picked what looked to be a trio of dark green golf balls connected by a nylon cord, which had been severed.

They looked like they had been a crudely fashioned bola. Obviously, it wasn't Cheshire's, _but_ whose was it?

"_Nightingale's_," he murmured. Of course, it all made sense, the bola was her secondary weapon. It was capable of stopping a mugger or thief in their tracks and, as shown by the materials, easy to make.

"Souvenir," Kid Flash yelled, snatching the destroyed weapon from him. Robin had gotten enough information from the weapon for now.

_So, the Nightingale came back and was able to stop Cheshire?_ he thought as he observed the police load Black Spider and Hook in a vehicle that would take them to jail. _If the Nightingale came back,_ then ….

His thoughts trailed off as he remembered that there was another criminal that needed to be apprehended. Silently he hurried off to see if Scourge was still in that alley and if Officer Stephen was alright.

He grappled up to the rooftops, the quickest way he knew how to get anywhere.

Looking down in the alley where the carnage from his scrimmage with the Nightingale and her fight with Scourge lay strewn about, he saw to his dismay that Scourge was not there. A pair of handcuffs lay where he had once been.

_Amateur!_

* * *

><p>Every fiber in her being strained as she neared completion of the last leg of her patrol. Nightingale could feel every muscle protest her actions as she jumped from the corner of a rooftop into an intersection, it was the fastest way to get home.<p>

_Only a little bit longer, just a little bit longer,_ she reminded herself as she swung by Burney's newsstand.

With every passing second, she began to feel less like the Nightingale and more like the orphan Briana Thomas. The cut on her hand acted more like a leach; draining energy, much _needed_ energy, from her body.

Scourge's attack had handicapped her, _but_ only temporary. Whatever was happening in Daleville wasn't over and would not wait for her to heal.

Her body and mind were worn out. Her adrenaline rush had ended after her scrimmage with Scourge and battle with Robin. She was thankful that the night was over. With all its unexpected turns the Nightingale was ready to hang up the cowl and return to her roost.

Nightingale stumbled when her feet hit the rooftop of the Daleville orphanage, but she quickly corrected herself and used the momentum to tumble into an upright position. Not her most graceful landing, but it would have to do.

She scanned the surrounding streets and alleys around her home, nothing – human or otherwise – could be seen from her vantage point, so by extension nothing could see her.

With her left hand she ripped off her cowl, letting her sweaty ebony locks air out. She slipped her cowl into the back pocket of her jeans as she trudged to her cache of medical supplies she'd hidden on the roof months ago.

Carefully, Briana peeled the bloody glove from her right hand and inspected the damage thoroughly.

"_Damn_ it," she swore quietly. "Could this night get any _worse_?"

Scourge's throwing knife had left a somewhat deep cut and had almost severed a tendon, but she was glad that the knife had hit where it had. If the knife had been any higher, her whip would be out of commission for a while. Any lower … _well_, Briana was certain that she probably wouldn't have made it back to the orphanage but would have ended up in a juvenile detention center or something. _That_ or dead with one of Scourge's blades in her torso.

Briana wished she were left handed or _better yet_ ambidextrous as she fumbled to open her personal first aid kit.

She supposed that she would have been fine with just a band aid and some medical gauze, but as a precaution she planned to put some stitches in.

It took longer than Briana would have liked to open the box of medical supplies, but eventually her left hand cooperated with her. She selected a sterilized needle, plastic thread, medical gauze, and some disinfectant wipes from the box's content.

Briana bit her lip and curled her toes to avert her attention from the pain her felt while she scrubbed the cleansing ointment of the wipe into her wound. Once the wound was clean, the next painful step was to sew her flesh back together to encourage healing.

She sharply inhaled as she felt blood trickle from her hand at the first stitch. Pain was an all too common thing in her life, had been since she was six and a half.

Briana desired to scream as she pulled the last stitch through.

There, _it's done,_ she thought with relief. Briana winced slightly as she flexed her hand, testing whether her handiwork would hold and they did, the flesh didn't tear either.

Gently, she wrapped medical gauze around her hand. With her stitches finished and covered, she pulled herself up to her feet. Her muscles weary and her mind worn out, Briana was ready to turn in if she could.

* * *

><p><em>"You should have seen the look on Briana's face, it was priceless.<em>

_"Okay, so yesterday, Bree and Mom were looking through cook books trying to pick a cake for Bree's birthday, but she wouldn't quit looking at the cookie section of the book._

_"Of course, when Bree doesn't want to look at something, she doesn't so a cake wasn't picked out._

_"Briana was really upset when she went to bed 'cause she didn't have a cake, but she stubbornly said she wanted both a cake and cookies._

_"When she woke up, she was in an extremely grumpy mood and still upset that there wasn't a cake picked out, but when Mom said that she'd picked out one and that it was a surprise Briana's curiosity was piqued._

_"But Briana was forced to wait until her party to find out what her cake was, and the wait _was_ worth it._

_"If pictures are worth a thousand words, than the picture of Briana surprised is worth at least fifteen hundred. _

_"I don't think I've seen Briana quite as surprised as when she found out that Mom had combined what Briana had wanted and made a cookie cake._

_"Thank God for Stephen, he's the best photographer I've ever seen. He got one of the best pictures of Briana I've ever seen too. It's definitely a keeper."_

(An excerpt from Brian's journal)

"_So_ Briana likes cookie cake," Amanda thought aloud while writing this new detail about Briana in a notebook.

Even with the newest discovery about her best friend, she couldn't help but look worriedly out their eastern facing window every few pages. Hoping to get a glimpse of the kid returning over the rooftops or landing on the fire escape in order to enter the room. Despite knowing that the Nightingale could be another few hours, Amanda had forced herself to wake up around the usual times that Gale _could_ return.

She knew that when Briana added her bracers to her attire the night would be uglier and more dangerous than usual. Often that armor foretold of cut and near death experiences for the Songbird of Daleville because Scourge was on the prowl.

Once Amanda was certain that there wasn't any bird girl lurking in any shadows visible from their window, she returned their focus to Briana's older brother's journal. Reading was one of the ways Amanda diverted her attention so as to keep her mind from working itself up too much. Doing homework was _also_ an option, but Amanda was _way_ too interested in Brian's journal.

She had found Briana's deceased brother to be a most useful ally in her and Johnny's quest to throw a successful surprise birthday party for Briana.

Unfortunately, reading his journal in front of Briana could also blow the whole thing up in their faces. Amanda had to count on Briana being drop dead tired from the night's activities; she had to hope that the Nightingale's adrenaline levels were low from the trek home. Especially if the only thing hiding Brian's journal was a dust cover that Briana (under normal conditions) would notice didn't belong with the book she was reading.

Amanda felt a gust of cold night breeze enter their room, Briana was back. She looked up to greet her best friend, but stopped.

"Holy _crap_ Bree, are you alright?" Amanda had to ask as Briana all but collapsed on her bed.

"No, I'm not alright. Am I ever alright when I get back?" answered the bird girl bluntly. It was evident from her tone that something big (and by usual extension painful) had occurred in Daleville.

"_What_ happened?" Amanda demanded, whilst Briana unbuckled her combat boots and removed her costume.

"Scourge … and then some."

"'Then some'?" Amanda wondered what Briana meant. It wasn't all that unusual that the Nightingale faced off against Scourge, but tonight it was evident that Gale had run into something more aggressive than the usual ruffians of Daleville. Just what exactly, Amanda hadn't the slightest clue.

Briana paused in her work of peeling the clothing off, as if to gather her thoughts and sighed. "Let's just say that I'm not the only bird in Daleville anymore. … Are you enjoying _The Hound of Baskerville_?"


	14. I'm Not Superhuman

**I'm Not Superhuman**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**4:58 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Briana lay in her bed drifting between restless dreams and wakeful hours. Her green eyes traced random patterns on the ceiling as her mind meandered through questions unanswered and answers unexplained. While her body desired sleep, her thoughts were speeding off like a bullet train determined to arrive at a destination unknown.<p>

Her pajamas consisted of a black pullover that depicted a leaping panther – her high school's mascot – in crimson; light blue pajamas sweat pants with the Wonder Woman symbol all over them; a pair of grey fingerless gloves to conceal her stitches; and the only pair of fuzzy socks she owned. Despite wearing her favorite combination of clothing for pajamas, her mind would not be put at ease.

She lay on her comforter turning the red and silver disc over and over again in her hand. The shuriken was the only lead she had on Robin. Whether she wanted to or not, she had to find him in order to stop him from uncovering her secrets.

Though, the how was her real problem. If he didn't show in Daleville again she wouldn't have to deal with it, which might be the case if they caught the culprits.

Despite her desire to stop Robin from discovering the Nightingale's identity, she had to place that as a second priority. The activity at S.T.A.R. labs and any events connected to that attempted burglary had to come first. Many questions flew around in her mind about those events.

Briana didn't quite know what to make of Scourge's appearance, _especially_ when he was prone to going after the biggest pay day that he could get his hands on. This made it all the more unusual that tonight Scourge had played the distraction. Had he planned to rob the building _or_ was part of a _larger_ scheme? She did not know.

Though if Scourge's interference was part of a larger scheme then was someone anticipating that the Nightingale would be enough to stop or halt their plans? Why? In all her hero career, she hadn't accomplished much; at least not compared to all that the sidekicks had accomplished. So far, this was the biggest mystery she'd ever undertaken.

Besides she was _just_ one kid. She knew that alone, she could not have been enough to even stall the three thieves in the melee with sidekicks tonight.

Had they been expecting the sidekicks and used Scourge as a way to cause strife between the vigilante and the heroes? If so then these people were several steps ahead of them, but they'd left one thing behind: Scourge. He was hopefully in the custody of the police right now, so there was a fair possibility that if Scourge knew anything he'd tell someone and _just_ maybe that someone would the Nightingale.

**Gotham City, Connecticut**

**6:33 A.M. E.D.T.**

* * *

><p>Dick awoke well rested. Aside from the bruises that the misfired arrow and those that the Nightingale had inflicted, his body was refreshed. His mind, <em>however<em>, was not.

He couldn't stop thinking about his fight with the Nightingale. He couldn't quit analyzing it.

Her fighting skills were varied, but still somewhat undeveloped. Obliviously, her ingenuity was something to behold. The Nightingale had been able to figure out how to make weaponry out of everyday items. Whoever she was, she was quite smart and knew how to work with what she had in any situation with any resources.

During that fight, Dick had gained much information, but not enough to give him a more specific group of people investigate in order to uncover the Nightingale's identity. He wanted to go back to Daleville and do more digging, but unfortunately he – like every other teen around the world – had to go to school.

As per his morning routine, Dick indulged himself in a hot fifteen minute shower. Usually a hot shower helped clear his mind. It had been one of the best antidotes for when he woke up from a nightmare, but even with cascades of water drenching him, today his mind would not clear.

Once finished with his shower, Dick quickly changed into his school uniform, collected what he would need for an undoubtedly _boring_ day, and headed for the dining room.

Apparently, he'd awoken earlier than normal because the table hadn't been set yet.

Dick did what he usually did when he was in this kind of a dilemma, he headed for the kitchen and have breakfast in there. As always in the morning, Alfred was in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

"Morning, Alfred," Dick greeted, pulling a stool up to the island of the kitchen.

"Ah, Master Dick, I am glad to see that you are awake," Alfred replied, starting to put his breakfast before him. As soon as his cereal was put before him, Dick began to eat. It wasn't too long before his whole meal was in front of him.

When Dick took a pause to drink some of his orange juice, Alfred informed him, "Once you are done with your breakfast, Master Bruce would like you to report to Mount Justice."

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**6:41 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Amanda awoke at her usual time to an unusual occurrence; Briana wasn't sleeping in for as long as she could, but somewhere else entirely. Though who was she to complain, especially when she still had a bruise from on her hand from the last time she tried to wake Briana up in the morning.<p>

She slowly collected her clothing for the day and headed for the showers. As she had intended, Amanda arrived at the showers early enough to beat the shower rush.

After rushing through the showers in three minutes, Amanda was prepared to start the day starting with breakfast.

The usual sleepy early morning activity had begun as Amanda marched somewhat awake down the stairs towards the mess hall for breakfast. She arrived at the second story where the mess hall and kitchen was located, she ran into a certain Blonde.

"Hey, Amanda, what's up with Thomas? Did she wake up on the wrong side of the bed or _something_?" Jack asked as he exited the mess hall and headed back to his room.

"No, I don't think so, _but_ I haven't seen her at all this morning though. Why?" Amanda gave Jack a questioning look. It was unlike Jack to ask such a question concerning Briana. The two had always been able to cheer each other up when the other was in a bad mood. Usually Briana would be in better spirits after they talked – no matter what had occurred during school or the previous night, but Amanda guessed there was _always_ an exception.

"Thomas is in a cranky mood this morning and she won't tell me why. Is it that time of the year or something?" he asked.

Amanda just shrugged. "I don't think so, but you'd know better than I would, Blonde. Briana really doesn't discuss that particular family matter with me."

"Okay. Please look into it though, if Thomas doesn't tell me stuff, she'll usually tell you," Jack requested of her before going their separate ways.

Amanda only nodded a slight thanks before going into the mess hall.

Before stepping into the breakfast line, Amanda peered into the mess hall. Sitting alone at one of the tables was a brooding Briana with an empty plate of food in front of her and nursing a cup of coffee. Obviously, she had been able to coerce one of the older kids, the cook, or maybe even Mr. Mathews into giving her coffee.

In most case, it would be unwise to give a thirteen year old coffee, but with Briana it was okay because she never got hyper from it nor did she ask for it all that often. But she usually didn't want coffee and that worried Amanda. If Briana wanted coffee than whatever the Nightingale had done during her patrol had to have been big.

Amanda quickly made her way through the breakfast line and sat down beside Briana, but the kid didn't even look up from the Styrofoam cup that held her precious drink.

"Hey, _Bree_, what's up?" Amanda asked, seeing that Briana wasn't going to provide any opportunity to start a conversation.

The kid only shrugged in reply.

Normally, Amanda wouldn't inquire about the Nightingale's patrol so early in the morning, but today Amanda would make an exception.

"So, what happened last night, Bree?"

"That's just it, Amanda, I'm not sure what happened last night." The kid sighed, finally looking up from the coffee. "Now that I'm looking at it in retrospect, it all seems so confusing and very little of what I did or saw adds up."

_Yep_, Amanda was definitely worried for Briana's safety just by looking at her friend's face. Underneath the usually lively pair of emerald eyes were rather large bags. It was as if Briana had gotten hardly any sleep after she'd gotten back and maybe she had considering that Amanda slept through the hours in which Briana was safe and sound at the orphanage.

If Briana had stayed up to recap or debrief herself or whatever it was she usually did when they got back from school, then Amanda could see why the kid would need coffee.

"You gonna be okay?" Amanda was compelled to ask out of compassion.

"I hope so." Briana sighed. "Johnny was right I am in over my head … _way_ over my head. I need to do some research to see if I can figure out what exactly I'm up against if I can, so I'll see you at school."

With that Briana chugged down the last of her coffee, collected her empty dishes, and headed for school.

Usually, Amanda wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and dismiss Briana's decision to do some research, but today she wasn't sure about this. She was worried about Briana.

Well, at the least she could tell Johnny what she uncovered about Briana's sweet tooth and preferences thanks to a deceased relative of Briana's without alerting her to their plan to throw a surprise for her.

**Happy Harbor, Rhode Island**

**7:04 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Zatanna set at the breakfast buffet, finishing her breakfast and talking with Megan. All three of them were rather tired from their mission.<p>

Luckily, Zatanna went to high school online, so she could take a nap anytime she wanted.

"_Zatanna, report to the mission room_," Batman interrupted their conversation via the intercom.

Zatanna sighed in dismay; apparently she might not be able to take a nap after all.

"See you later, Zatanna," Megan said as Zatanna head for the mission room.

"Later," she called back.

When Zatanna arrived, she found much to her surprise that Robin was waiting her there along with Batman. She had to wonder what Batman had called her there for.

"As you know, last night your mission was a success," Batman said to them once Zatanna was in the middle of the room alongside Robin. "But this was not the Shadow's first attempt to rob S.T.A.R. Labs. The previous night Cheshire was stopped by Daleville's local vigilante. This is the Nightingale."

Before her eyes, Batman pulled what looked to be a security tap that was dated the Sunday before on the display. At first the only people on the footage were armed guards, but suddenly they collapsed and Cheshire leaped into view. Only a few seconds later another person jumped on to the screen.

The person appeared to be in regular street clothes, but she blended into what shadows that surrounded her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Cheshire and the other person whom she assumed to be the Nightingale proceeded to fight. Whoever the Nightingale was, she was able to hold her own against Cheshire fairly well.

Batman let the footage play until the two combatants flipped out of view.

"Besides stopping Cheshire, the Nightingale helped you last night. While not directly involved in your scrimmage with the Shadow, she did assist you by using her bola," Batman said, showing a picture of the souvenir that Wally had brought back, "to stop Cheshire from getting into the S.T.A.R. Labs building. You will be going back to Daleville to discover who the Nightingale is by investigating the local middle schools and high schools."


	15. Events are Turning

**Events are Turning**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**7:15 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Briana sat on the brick wall that fenced the high school planter. She listened to the birds' warble and whistle their morning songs with a smile on her face.<p>

Her aim was to appear like a normal teen a little _too_ eager to get to school and hopefully that would fool any passersby, but in spite of it all, things were not as they appeared.

Today Briana had to act if her life wasn't beginning to crumble. Briana would have to remain as ambiguous as possible, especially if she intended to let her investigation breech school time.

Supported by her knees was her black diary, in which she thoughtfully recorded the events of the Nightingale's patrol. Painfully, she added her latest battle with Scourge and the encounter with Robin to the annals of Nightingale's adventures. Every few minutes or so, Briana would partially pull of her fingerless glove to reassure herself that the stitches were holding despite every painful pen stroke.

She wondered how she would survive the school day with her hand stitched up.

"_Well_, it if isn't brilliant, but lazy Briana."

Briana clumsily fell backwards into the overgrown bushes at the sudden intrusion of some else. She found that she was tangled and incredibly lost in her old navy blue sweater. She'd put it on in order to ward off the chill in the air, _not_ to get lost in it.

"_Easy_, kid, I wouldn't want to lose the only student who pays attention in my class," said a voice belonging to Mr. Flora, her geometry teacher.

"I doubt that I'm the only student that pays attention to you lessons," Briana retorted as she found an avenue of escape from her hoodie. Quickly, she hoisted herself up from the bottom of the planter and jumped over the ornate wall.

She swiftly collected her notebook and her precious diary before her teacher could see what it contended.

"So what brings you to school so early, Briana?"

Briana smiled sheepishly. "I … _ah_ … needed to get some extra study time in. I kind of put off some stuff longer than I could afford."

As would be expected from any teacher in her school, Mr. Flora bought her excuse. There were some upsides to being the youngest high school student in the district.

"Sure, kid," he replied. "And what are the required materials for your studying this time?"

Briana smiled. "If I could get access to a computer would be awesome."

* * *

><p>Johnny let out a yawn as he headed for the kitchen. If waking up to give the Nightingale some info and a snack tired him this much, then he could only imagine how Briana felt after a night of crime fighting.<p>

"Morning, Mom," he greeted. "What's on the menu today?"

"Would you prefer eggs or cereal, Johnny?" his mother brightly offered. She was _definitely_ a morning person.

"Is it possible to have both?"

"Of course."

"I'll have eggs, honey," his dad declared, entering the kitchen.

"I suppose that you'll both want scrambled?"

"Yes, please," they both answered.

Johnny poured himself a bowl of mini-wheat's and set them on the counter opposite of the stove to eat them. As usual, he ate and mediated on anything that had been bothering him.

Lately, the _only_ thing bothering him was whatever the Nightingale had gotten herself into. He couldn't help but worry about his friend. Yeah, she might be a vigilante and _very_ independent, but that didn't mean that she could possibly know what she was getting herself into.

"Have you heard anything on Stephen's condition?" his mom asked his dad and caught Johnny's attention.

"What are you talking about?" Johnny questioned.

His mom sighed, indicating that he'd probably found something out that he wasn't supposed to know about until after the fact.

"Stephen had an encounter with our very own super villain, Scourge. He was found unconscious but mostly unharmed in an alley amid signs of a struggle. They took him to the hospital from some monitoring, but that's all we've heard," his dad replied.

"Was the Nightingale there?"

"We believe so, but have no solid evidence."

Johnny took a moment to process this. If Scourge had been there, _then_ of _course_ the Nightingale had been there to stop him that was how it usually worked. Very rarely did the Nightingale miss Scourge. Only when Briana misjudged where Scourge would be did she miss him, but she often caught him by the end of the night.

He knew that Briana had been there, but not in time to keep Stephen from getting hurt. Undoubtedly, she'd saved his brother from Scourge, but she hadn't been soon enough to save Stephen from a concussion.

"Was Scourge caught?" he asked at length, knowing that it probably was the least he could do for Briana.

His dad sighed. "No, Scourge was not apprehended. He is still at large, among others."

Johnny nodded sullenly. Apparently the Daleville P.D. and the Nightingale had barely broke even that night.

**Just past Gotham City limits**

**7:27 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Robin stared impatiently at the passing scenery. He wanted to get to Daleville, but seeing as the town did not have a zeta beam station, he and Zatanna had to take an hour long bus ride between Gotham and Daleville.<p>

In his mind, he reviewed _and_ re-reviewed all the information about the Nightingale. They would probably have more luck investigating the local high school as opposed to the junior high school.

The Nightingale seemed to be a high school-er rather than a tween, plus she appeared to have some attributes of a well trained cheer leader.

"So, what do we know about the Nightingale?" asked Zatanna bringing Robin out of his thoughts.

"She uses a whip as her primary weapon, but carries bolas as a secondary. She's capable of handling herself well against superior adversaries," he supplied, smiling at Zatanna.

"Where are we going to start looking for her?"

"The high school would be our best bet; from what I saw she had the abilities much like a cheer leader would need."

Zatanna nodded.

"Do you think we'll find her?" she asked him after a few minutes of silence.

"_Maybe_, she's an amateur. It's possible that she'll slip up."

Though he doubted that would be the case, the Nightingale carried herself more like a well trained hero than an amateur.


	16. Start Somewhere

**Start Somewhere**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**7:32 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Amanda tapped her foot against the side walk impatiently as she waited for Johnny at Burney's newsstand. On a usual morning - and even on not so usual mornings - Amanda wouldn't be so <em>impatient<em>, so _bored_. Often Briana would be with her, but not this morning due to whatever had had happened on the Nightingale's patrol.

Though the chilly brisk morning was cheerful as ever, Amanda sensed something foreboding in the air. If Briana was sacrificing precious sleeping time to get up early and have breakfast in order to get to school early to do some investigating then all was not right in Daleville.

Previously, she would have thought this meant that some gang boss or something along similar lines was shipping something through Daleville that wasn't exactly legal. But considering what had taken place on the Nightingale's Sunday patrol that had ended up the _Gotham Gazette_ in an article that _glorified_ the Nightingale as a folk hero. Amanda knew that any previous occurrences would not be the case.

That night Briana had hinted that something was unusual and amiss in Daleville. Amanda wanted to talk to Johnny to see if he knew anything about the happenings.

At least there was one upside to Briana leaving early for school to do research, she could tell Johnny about her discoveries without Briana ever finding out about it.

"_You're_ _late_," Amanda said promptly as Johnny jogged up to Burney's newsstand.

"Sorry, but I think you're _early_ and I kind of got side tracked," replied Johnny. Amanda glanced at her watch again. Johnny was indeed correct, she was early.

"Where's Bree?" he demanded once he caught his breath.

"At school, she need to do some research for her project," Amanda answered using their code phrases to indicate that Briana was continuing her investigation where there were more resources.

Johnny groaned. "I wanted to talk to her. Something's come up."

"Like what?" Amanda questioned, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Stephen's in the hospital, all thanks to Scourge."

**Somewhere between Gotham City and Daleville, Connecticut**

**7:48 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Zatanna stared out the window, watching the Connecticut scenery as it passed by. The trip would last for a little longer, but it made Zatanna nervous. This was not how she was used to getting to places for missions. She was thankful that Robin was with her or else she would have missed the bus or freaked out before it came.<p>

Unfortunately, Robin didn't really want to talk at the moment and she that something was bothering him. But she didn't press him to get was whatever was bothering him out into the opened; she didn't feel exactly like talking either.

She let her mind wander and ponder why they were going on this mission. Why was this Nightingale relevant to what had happened the other night? Zatanna and possible any other member hadn't seen the girl and the only thing that actually indicate she had been there was the bola.

_Who knows, maybe she'll be a new team member. Another bird won't hurt,_ Zatanna thought.

If the Batman was interested in this vigilante, then what other option was there for the bird girl, especially when the Batman has any say in it.

Robin definitely seemed interested in the Nightingale as well.

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**7:51 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>"This is <em>useless<em>," Briana growled as she exited the window. All morning, she'd sat at the library's computer looking up what leads she had.

The Cheshire leads were not very useful, or more accurately she didn't know where to start. The only information on the cat assassin was the same news article about the attack on Tapia, and some stuff that she didn't care to look through about the League of Shadows. She probably would sift through some of the Shadows information later, but now her time was limited and there were other things she had to look into.

Google had too numerous hits on these other leads, but Scourge was possibly be more useful to her then the shadowy assassin. She knew about then thief better than anyone else.

Briana already knew that all the search engines would only give her the definition of the word 'scourge' for which the thief was named after, so she went for the indirect approach. She decided to look up the company that Scourge had attempted to pilfer from: Powers Inc.

For the past half hour, she had surfed and scanned through their site. There was a catalogue, but thanks to school restrictions she couldn't look it up. But she didn't see anything too lustrous about the company. She couldn't see anything about it that would attract Scourge to this company.

"_Perfect_," she murmured to herself, rubbing her temples as she logged off the computer. "Is _everything_ against me this time?"

She exited the quiet and calming library. School would be starting soon, and she may as well mingle and look inconspicuous among other teens. Briana knew that she had to, especially if she wanted to ensure that no one noticed what was in the black diary.

She also needed to speak with Johnny. _Maybe_ he'd heard something that she needed. Besides she wanted to see if Stephen was alright, the officer's concussion had been pretty bad.

"_Hey_, Thomas," someone called from behind her.

Briana stopped and turned around; of course she already had a pretty good idea as to who the person was, only a handful of people at Daleville High referred to her as 'Thomas'. In her head she could determine who was calling her from the name they used.

'Thomas' was what some of the punks, parkour junkies, and skaters called her. 'Bree' was what her friends and most of the people at school referred to her. 'Briana' or 'Ms. Thomas' was what all the teachers or office staff called her.

The person behind her was, of course, Jack.

"Hey, Jack," she greeted as he caught up to her. "What's up?"

"I should be the one asking you that question," he replied. "Is something _wrong_, Bree? You didn't seem yourself this morning."

Briana felt her stomach flutter in an _uncharacteristic_ way. She usually was never at a loss for an answer, but whenever it came to Jack recently she always was.

Carefully she debated within herself about how to answer. Whether she should lie or tell him exactly what was bothering her. There was extreme sincerity in his blue eyes and his tone was genuine.

"Is it that time of the year, Bree?" he questioned a sad tone entering his voice. She instantly knew he was referring to her parents' death and it conjured up memories that she didn't desire to recall at the moment.

"I've got some stuff on my mind," she managed to reply.

"We've got some time before classes, and I've got a few bucks. You wanna grab a soba and talk?" offered her best friend.

Briana thought before answering, she didn't know how to answer.

She wanted to talk with him, but she also didn't want to endanger him by sharing her secret with him. She could understand Amanda and Johnny knowing, because they figured out who the Nightingale was, whether by accident or by thought. If she were to talk to Jack, she would like to talk about something that wasn't a lie, but she didn't want to tell him about the Nightingale side of life either. She wasn't ready to put her best friend in the same danger that Johnny and Amanda were constantly in.

"Yeah." She nodded, deciding that it wouldn't be so bad to talk to him. So long as she avoided the subjects in the news she'd be fine. "I'd like that."

* * *

><p>"Mountain Dew, your favorite."<p>

Jack handed Briana the soda can with the biggest smile he had and sat down beside her. She only gave a slight smile in return as she opened the pop, but didn't return him gaze. She was a little bit better than she had been at breakfast.

"So, what's up, Briana?"

He leaned back, beginning to lounge about, trying to get Briana to relax. His best friend was not herself and he needed to help her.

"Come on, Thomas, talk – and don't say there's nothing wrong with you, 'cause something is. I'm _your_ best friend, I knew this kind of thing," Jack stated when Briana didn't answer. "Is it that time of the year?"

He knew whenever it came to that time when Briana's family was murdered, she was usually in a foul mood at all hours of the day and was hard to live with.

"No, Jack, it's not _that_," she replied, taking a swig of the soda.

"Then, what is it, Briana? Please tell me," he asked softly. Looking at her, Jack could see that she was distraught about something.

Though Briana's clothing and hair were well kempt, he could see with in her emerald eyes that something was severely bothering her. Her face was shrouded by her black bangs and they navy blue hoodie pulled close to her body gave off the '_leave me alone_' feeling, _but_ Jack knew better. He knew that underneath that feeling was just a young lady whose heart had been broken and had never fully healed, with calluses that could be torn off unexpectedly at any moment.

"I've got some stuff going on in my life right now, Jack," she replied staring out over the foot ball field. "I'm just trying to make sense of it and it's really hard."

He nodded. Jack knew that feeling pretty well, especially when he thought about his parents.

"Life's full of confusing problem, Briana," he commented when her gaze fell on him again. "And sometimes, you _can't_ face them alone. Take my word for it."

She nodded, letting some of her well guarded emotions slip into her expression, frustration and fatigue were among those many.

"If you ever feel like sharing what's got you stumped or on your mind, always remember, Briana, I'm _here_ for you. I _always_ will be," he said gently.

She smiled slightly, the kind of smile that made Jack broaden his own. "I will, Jack, and thanks."


	17. Of High Schools & Annoying Alarm Clocks

**Of High Schools and Annoying Alarm Clocks**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**8:39 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Robin stepped off the bus, stiff from the rid. The bus station overlooked Daleville. The small city was mostly asleep and still seemed to be unaware of what had happened that night.<p>

He could see why the Nightingale guarded it with such zeal.

From where he stood, Daleville looked rather homely, the rising sun glistening off the ocean and the lively sounds of trains as they rambled through the town as they made their way to their destination had a calming effect that even visitors felt.

"So where do we go from here?" Zatanna asked with a yawn.

"To Daleville High and Junior High," he replied. "That's what we're supposed to do and maybe we should look in different teen hangouts once school ends. The Nightingale's got to be around this town somewhere."

From the bus station, the two heroes headed further into the city in silence. Robin was fixated on finding out who the Nightingale was. Daleville was large enough to hide a teenaged vigilante at night, but during the day every teen from miles around would be headed to high school and the Nightingale couldn't mask herself there for long. Whoever she was, she still had to go to school; even he had to, so they had a pretty fair chance of uncovering her identity during the day.

"Hey, Rob, why do you think Batman is interested in this Nightingale?" Zatanna asked as they walked along.

Robin looked at her with a raised eyebrow through his sunglasses. He hadn't thought about that. He'd thought that Batman was only doing this so he could investigate, but who when he looked at it that way. Batman really did have an interest in this; he'd deployed them on a mission and pointed Robin in the direction even before it.

"I'm _serious_ Robin," she remarked after a minute while he thought about his answer. "Why is he interested in this vigilante?"

He shrugged and gave the best answer he could. "I don't know. He really never gives much of a reason for anything he does, he just does it."

"Can you even speculate about why he's got us on this mission?" she persisted.

"I guess maybe he sees some potential in her," he replied. "And maybe he wants us to find her instead of him because … I don't know. Maybe the Nightingale won't feel as intimidated, or something, if it's us who finds her and not him."

Zatanna nodded. "I suppose, but how are we supposed to find her if we don't even knew what she looks like with a mask on? It's like trying to find a needle in a hay stack."

Robin just flashed Zatanna a smile. "Come on, _I'm_ the protégé of the world's greatest detective. I think I can find the Nightingale, especially if she's an amateur without much need to cover her tracks."

Zatanna smiled back and sighed. "I hoped you're right. If you aren't we're on a wild bird chase."

He agreed with her. If he didn't have enough information on the bird girl, then they would be on a wild bird chase. Robin wondered if he _did_ have enough information on the vigilante.

He would soon find out if he had enough, Daleville High wasn't that far away.

* * *

><p>Amanda stared at the white board at the front of the class room <em>bored<em>. The teacher was giving a melodramatic lecture on immigration at the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century as if it _were_ something interesting.

She took notes on the stuff that would be on the test but nothing more. There was nothing else worth taking note of in this class.

A small snore was heard across the isle of desks. Amanda half smirked as she glanced over to Briana who was all but drooling on her text book. The kid had designated the boring history class as a nap time, probably because she could sleep through the lecture and still get an A and also because the teacher – Mr. Raven – wouldn't notice if all his class was asleep.

How Briana could still get good grades and was able to take a nap through most of the lectures, Amanda would like to know, but apparently that was a Nightingale's trade secret or something because Briana wouldn't tell.

Mr. Raven closed the text book he'd been reading from with a _snap_, startling all the nappers out of dreamland, but Briana hardly stirred.

"Now, class," intoned their teacher. "You're unit project has been decided."

The whole class collectively groaned. Mr. Raven loved giving out projects after they'd talked about some that had taken place over a fifty year period or so.

Amanda was partial to the whole project thing though. For her Civil War project, she'd voluntarily chosen how the Red Cross was formed during that time. Briana had quite enjoyed it too. Of course, the kid had chosen something that wouldn't take her too long or get in the way of the night's activities. That had been memorizing the _Gettysburg Address_.

Before Mr. Raven could continue to introduce their project, Amanda dutifully jabbed Briana in the ribs to wake her. Briana glared coldly at Amanda, but she sat up in her seat instead of putting her head back down.

"This _time_, I have chosen your project so as to _avoid_ any further incidents," said Mr. Raven and Amanda smiled and rolled her eyes. Mr. Raven had been the one to suggest to some of the jocks that they may consider reenacting a scene from one of the battles. "This time you will be researching your genealogy, your family tree. You will present where your family came from before coming here to America. If you are unable to accomplish this then you will determine which nation of Europe or Asia you looked like the most and present about them. This will due a week from now, so do _not_ waste your time."

With that the teacher began to pass out rubrics and sheets with their assignment on it so they would not forget it. Most students began to converse among themselves about what they already knew.

Amanda, though, began to make a mental plan of how she would get this assignment done. Fortunately, she knew that some of her grandparents were still alive and in some nursing home in California, so she'd just have to call them up and talk with them.

She glanced sideways at Briana. She knew that the kid often loathed this sort of project because of the turmoil it brought to the surface. Oddly, there was a mixture of sorrow and the '_detective glint'_ in her eyes. Almost as if the kid was seeing something in a new light for the first time that was just what she needed to accomplish whatever goal she was pursuing.

This time, though, the glint had _less_ of the Nightingale in it and more of the kid in it. It had curiosity rather than hardened determination in it. A genuine look of curiosity was within Briana's eyes. Something that Amanda had never seen before. True, blue, _childish_ curiosity was plastered as plain as day on Briana's face.

"_Briana_," Amanda whispered in a sing-song voice. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I need to pay a visit to one of my parents' old friends," Briana replied in an equally sing-song whisper.

"_Why_?"

"_Because_, he could know something about my genealogy that I don't." A smile curled itself on Briana's lips and Amanda grew a little concerned.

"_Perfect_," she growled under her breath as the bell rang. "Another mystery strikes again and it's _only_ Tuesday."

* * *

><p>Briana collected her things and scurried out the door. Her mind whirled with possibilities.<p>

Last week, Mr. Raven had spoken with her about the project saying that she could present about the conditions on Ellis Island and what happened to the immigrants after they were allowed into New York, but he said the decision was up to her. Lots of teachers took consideration when projects such as this came up, but only rarely did it affect Briana greatly.

Briana knew that physically the only thing that attached her to her beloved parents was a few sheets of paperwork. She knew that she'd been adopted by the Thomas' originally, but over the years that really never mattered. To Briana, they may as well be her blood relatives, but something about what Mr. Raven said intrigued her, sparked her curiosity.

If anyone knew anything about her it'd be Mr. Jenkins, her parents' lawyer. Even if he didn't, it'd be nice to talk to him, maybe even get some information on her parents' ancestry at the same time.

Skillfully, Briana dodged this way and that as she made her way to her locker to deposit the overweight text book. She wasn't too keen on carrying around anymore weight than necessary.

"_Briana_, where have you been?" Johnny snapped her as he stepped out at of the steady stream of students.

"I've been in my classes and the library, why do you ask?" she questioned calmly.

Quickly, she studied her friends face and saw that there was a worried expression that marred his face. He was deeply concerned about something, and Briana could rightly guess what.

"I've been meaning to talk to you all morning. I wanted to tell you that Stephens's in the hospital."

Briana attempted and failed to conceal her shock. She swallowed hard, she'd apparently underestimated the extent of Stephen's blow to the head.

"You didn't know, _did_ you?" Johnny asked, seeing but a glimpse of her expression as she reigned them back in.

"_No_, honestly, I _didn't_. Johnny, I'm _so_ sorry," she replied, her mind replying what she witnessed before attacking Scourge and silently criticizing herself for not intervening _sooner_.

He nodded. "I know. You _always_ are."

"I'm _serious_, Johnny," Briana said with a sigh. "Do you know his condition?"

"They're monitoring him, that's all my parents would say."

Briana nodded. "It could have been worse, far worse than what happened."

* * *

><p>Zatanna flittered out of the chatter of the Daleville High's principal, who kept going on and on about how good their school was, but <em>just<em> the tour proved otherwise. Their facility was in _shambles_.

The building that acted as the local high school was a dilapidated and looked like they had tried to build a new facility on top of the old one. The lockers were damaged and in disrepair. The text books were out of date.

The library was an interesting room. It had a Victorian style look and would have been beautiful if it were not for the numerous buckets, pots, and pails around the place in case it rained.

The only thing the school could really pride itself with was up-to-date computers and an adequate gymnasium and sports equipment.

All in all, the school was the equivalent of a ramshackle shack that tried to force the new and the old into one and had resulted in something not unlike what you get when you mixed vinegar and baking soda.

"And that concludes our tour," proudly stated the pompous principal. "Feel free to explore and wander the halls, just so long as you don't disrupt the classes and hopefully we'll see you next semester Mr. Grayson and Ms. Grayson."

"Ah …. Yeah, sure," replied Robin as they headed down the halls.

"That guy is _very_ conceited," Zatanna observed.

"Yeah, he needs to be ceited, so where should we go first, _sis_?" he teased slightly, but she only rolled her eyes. Supposedly, they were brother and sister and Robin – now Robert – had even chosen their last name.

"Where in this haphazard school would a bird be likely to hang out?"

"Don't look at me, how should I know?"

"You're a bird too."

He frowned playfully at her, but thought of an answer. "She could be anywhere. If she is a cheerleader then they gym might be a good place to start, but exploring and getting to know the locals might do just as good as watching a practice."

* * *

><p>"<em>Friggin'<em> _annoying_ alarm clock," Roy growled contemptuously as a tone interrupted his sweet dreams. He quickly found that the sound was not coming from his alarm clock, but his cell phone.

"_Hello_," he said none too politely.

"Good, you're awake," a dark voice growled at the other end.

"What do _you _want?" Roy challenged, instantly recognizing the Batman's voice.

"Robin and Zatanna are in Daleville investigating some leads on the Nightingale."

"So what, I'm not one of your sidekicks. You can't order me around," Roy snapped preparing to hang up and go back to bed.

"No, but the information the Nightingale may have could prove useful to you in finding Cheshire," intoned the Bat, causing Roy to rethink the idea of going after the bird girl.

"Where do I start looking for this girl?" he growled sullenly, loathing the idea that he might have to work with the team.

It wasn't that he didn't trust them, most of them anyway, but he didn't want Oliver thinking that he was a part of the team.

"Robin and Zatanna are at the local high school, they need someone to look into different teen hang outs where the Nightingale might have ditched school at," replied Batman and hung up immediately afterwards.

Begrudgingly, Roy got out of his bed, disliking the prospect of looking for the bird girl already.


	18. Not the Only Bird, Not Any More

**Not the Only Bird, Not Any More**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**10:21 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Briana walked across the foyer of her school processing what Johnny had told her, it'd been going through her head all last period. He trusted her to keep Daleville safe and by extension his family. His brother, father, uncles, aunts, cousins - anyone on the police force in Johnny's family were part of the people she had to protected on a regular basis. Right now, Johnny was just mad that she hadn't acted quick enough to avoid Stephen's trip to the hospital.<p>

In all honesty, Briana was also upset with herself. She hated it when someone else suffered for her actions or lack of action. But that happened all too often for Briana's tastes, she tried to make things right as best she could, but sometimes it was just too much for one person to handle.

_Forget about it, I've got to focus. The recital's not too far away and I haven't even memorized me piece yet,_ she thought, entering the building. Briana sighed, trying to remember which notes she was supposed to play and in which order.

She calmly stepped into the classroom, but instantly ducked back out to collect her thoughts, the Nightingale portion of her instincts kicking in.

"This _cannot_ be happening," she murmured in horror, slumping against the wall.

In the music room were two people who thankfully would not recognize her due to the black cowl she wore on her nightly rounds. Conversing with her teacher was a raven haired boy and girl, whom she – or rather the Nightingale – recognized.

Actually, Nightingale really recognized the girl, the boy looked vaguely familiar. During the night, she had seen this girl near Stephen's police cruiser. Though whoever she was had civvies on, Briana still recognized her face.

_But who's that guy with her?_ Briana wondered, chancing a glance into the room. _If you replace those sunglasses with a mask, you _get? …. Aw, crud, _that's one persistent Ding-Bat!_

She frowned at the prospect of two Justice League sidekicks in her school undoubtedly looking for the Nightingale – for her. Of course, they would _not_ find out who the Nightingale was, Briana wouldn't allow it. She'd shaken off a police investigation or two before, and all of them had been looking at her school for clues. She could shake two sidekicks looking for a vigilante in a haystack.

"Briana, what are you doing?" Amanda asked, nearly causing Briana to leap into unnecessary action.

"Don't sneak up on me like that, 'kay?" Briana snapped.

"You're one to talk, why _so_ jumpy?"

"Something interesting is going on in Gale's world and its bridging over in her regular one." Briana smiled, knowing the answer would infuriate Amanda, but what other way was there to keep Amanda from discovering what the Songbird of Daleville had gotten into. She would tell her best friend what was happening, _but_ in her _own_ time, there was no reason to alarm Amanda right yet.

"Would you _please_ _stop_ being so cryptic, and enlighten the civilian? _Geeze_, Bree, could you at least tell me what's making you so jumpy during school hours? Normally this is the least paranoid part of the day."

Briana looked up at her best friend. "Just make sure to act as _nonchalant_ as possible around the two new people in the class room today and anytime you seem 'em."

"Ah, _why_?" Amanda raised an eyebrow that Briana's request.

"Let's just say that they're looking for a bird and the bird really doesn't want to be found, especially not by them," she replied. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the class room.

* * *

><p>Robin glanced over the teacher's attendance list, committing all the names to memory. None of them actually stood out, but he never knew which one could be the Nightingale.<p>

Mr. Ross – the music teacher – was a fairly nice man and made due with the lack of a budget that this high school had. He seemed particularly interested when Zatanna mentioned that she had always wanted to learn piano.

Zatanna was talking up a storm with him as Robin watched students file in disinterested. Most of the students that made up the small class had already arrived, the last to do so where a girl thirteen or fourteen years of age with ebony hair and a sixteen year old girl with light brown locks.

He paid no mind to the burnet, but the ebony girl caught his eye. Something about her was familiar. The way she sauntered into the class room displayed an air of confidence and, yet somehow, humility as well.

He turned his attention away from the conversation altogether to study this girl. She wore a pair of jeans with a knee that looked so threadbare that even the slightest trip might tear it, a pair of grey fingerless gloves, and a baggy navy blue hoody with a white tee-shirt that had a leaping panther on it, nothing atypical for a high school student. Even from a distance he could see that her eyes were a radiant green. Her demeanor didn't seem as if she felt herself over or under anyone, and she also looked as if she was right where she wanted to be.

"Briana, could you come here?" Mr. Ross called to one of the two girls who'd walked in.

The ebony cringed, turned around, and walked over to them

"Yes, Mr. Ross?" The ebony girl, obviously named Briana, smiled pleasantly at the teacher.

Mr. Ross put a hand on Briana's shoulder and proudly stated, "Robert, Zatanna, this is Briana Thomas, my best student in all my time teaching here, however short it might be."

"Hi."

Briana offered her hand calmly and with a winning smile. Robin and Zatanna extended their hands to return the gesture. He couldn't help _but_ notice that there was something underneath the fingerless glove on her right hand.

"Briana, you wouldn't mind showing them the class room and the auditorium, some of the other students need some assistance?"

"No, not at all."

"Good, I'll get you the keys. Just make sure to return them by the end of class."

It wasn't long before Briana was leading them down the hallway to the auditorium. They had already been there, but Robin didn't protest, he wanted to get to know Briana.

She seemed to be a _promising_ candidate for possibly being the Nightingale.

"You're got one interesting name, Zatanna," Briana commented, trying to make conversation.

Zatanna nodded. "Yeah, it runs in the family, I think."

"It's always nice to have something like that, as if you've got a little piece of home and family with you all the time," Briana replied, and Robin couldn't help but smile. Briana was right; having a family name or even just a name similar to someone in your family was like having them with you all the time. "And here we are. The auditorium!"

She unlocked a wooden door and opened it with a creaking noise. Instead of leading into the auditorium, instead the door Briana unlocked lead backstage.

"I suppose if you're already had the grand tour lead by our _dear_ _principal,_ you've already seen our auditorium," she announced, flipping on a panel of light switches and illuminating the stage. Once she reach center stage, she spun around and continued, "But _not_ from _this_ angle."

The auditorium was as rundown as the library and probably as old too. From the way it looked, Robin guessed that this room along with the library was once a part of the original building.

The red satin curtains were threadbare. The wooden planks that made up the stage creaked underfoot, but felt firm. In the center of the stage was a well furnished black grand piano. It seemed out of place in the middle of a partially dilapidated theater.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but if you look at it just right it's beautiful," Briana said, sweeping her arms across the stage.

"What do you mean?" Zatanna asked.

"Yeah, this is just some old auditorium," he commented. He didn't see how this could be beautiful. The auditorium at Gotham Academy was beautiful, but this … this definitely didn't qualify. But Briana shook her head.

"Trust me, this is beautiful." Briana smiled and promptly walked over to the piano bench. She set her knapsack off to one side of the bench and took a seat.

She calmly sighed, shook her fingers, and began to play. Mr. Ross had been correct about Briana's skills. She closed her eyes and focused on some piece that she'd memorized.

The melodious tune filled the dilapidated auditorium, echoing off the walls. No microphone was needed to reverberate the music into the whole room.

After a minute or so, her song ended.

"And that's why it's beautiful," she said with a bow. "I believe that this auditorium was specifically design for this. So is there anything in particular that you'd like to see, besides what we've already seen?"

"Is there a prop room?" Zatanna asked.

"Sure, I think it's over here." With that Briana lead them off to the side and to another part of the backstage.

* * *

><p>Roy glared as he meandered through the skate park. He doubted that any of the punks there were the Nightingale. Most of them weren't even girls, and any of the skater girls there didn't match the build of the bird girl he'd seen fighting Cheshire.<p>

In fact, Zatanna and Robin were probably having better luck finding out who the Nightingale was at the high school than he was at the hokey hang outs around town. The Nightingale probably wasn't the type to skip school; it might give away her secret ID or something.

"You're new here, aren't you?" someone addressed Roy. He turned around to see a skater about the age of sixteen.

"Yeah, just got here, what about it?" Roy glared at him. He was almost as tall as Roy, but much skinnier. He had long dark brown hair with bangs that covered his eyes. Despite the bangs obscuring his eyes, Roy could still see a dark purple bruise on the skater's temple.

The skater only shrugged. "Just stating the obvious, besides, this isn't the kind of place you see a rich boy in."

Roy frowned. Maybe he _should_ have worn something other than blazers and a nice shirt. Now that the skater mentioned it, he did look out of place in the park.

"You visiting Daleville or something? Name's Alonzo, by the way."

"I'm Roy, and I'm just visiting a relation in Daleville."

Alonzo nodded. "Enjoying your stay here so far?"

Roy shrugged, feeling rather awkward taking the questionairre. He was supposed to be looking for a damn vigilante, not acting like a _tourist_.

"I guess, but I came here to escape all that superhero stuff in the city, but even here I can't escape."

Roy noticed Alonzo smile disappear, almost as if he knew a secret that no one else had the knowledge of.

"Usually it's not _so_ bad, but it seems to be a hell of a time right now. Makes you wonder if the Nightingale can handle it all," the skater mused.

"Who is the Nightingale anyway?"

Alonzo shrugged once again. "No one really knows. The police don't have even the faintest idea of who she could be, but whoever she is, she's good at what she does, you've got to admit that."

The archer raised an eyebrow at this comment. Alonzo really sounded like he knew more than he was telling. "How would you know? Have you seen her before?"

The question apparently caught Alonzo off guard. Roy saw the skater's eyes widened slightly under his bangs as he searched his mind for an answer. Alonzo quickly regained his cool and answered, "Yeah, I saw her once. She was fighting Scourge, they were going at it like there was no tomorrow. With her whip _cracking_ and everything. I didn't see how it ended, but I'm sure the bird girl won. The heroes always do, even if they're vigilantes."

Roy nodded as Alonzo skated off to some of his friends.

* * *

><p>Amanda skimmed through title after title in the library looking for the correct book. It was free period and everyone was where they wanted to be <em>except<em> Amanda.

She had made sure to get a pass to the library. She had to check out the Sherlock Holmes mystery involving dogs or else run the risk of Briana catching wind of the surprise party.

That morning Amanda had written down in her to-do list to get a copy of _The Hound of Baskerville_, because Briana had noted that she'd been reading that book, when in fact she'd actually been reading Briana's deceased bother's journal. She'd been using the dust cover to conceal that fact from Briana and well, Amanda didn't want to be caught off guard if and when Briana asked where she was in the mystery or her opinion of the book.

"Leave it to the bird girl sleuth to know the mystery genre," Amanda muttered under her breath as she found the book. "I hope it's interesting, or I think I'm going to have to find a new dust cover."

"Hey, Amanda what are you doing here?" someone asked and Amanda nearly jumped out of her skin and three feet into the air.

"Johnny, don't ever sneak up on me like that again," she gasped. Her best male friend was standing behind her with a few books in his arms.

He rolled his eyes at her. "_Okay_, but what are you doing here? Don't you like to be talking with people on the bleachers or getting a head start on lunch?"

She nodded. "Yeah, just had to get a book."

"_The Hound of Baskerville_? I never thought you were one to read Sir Author Conon Doyle."

"I'm not, but Briana needs to think I am. That's gonna be difficult." Amanda ran her fingers through her brown locks, just imagining what Briana might figure out by the end of the week.

Johnny raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"Okay, so to find Briana's sweet tooth, I went through her stuff," Amanda whispered quickly, and Johnny looked surprised at her _audacity_ to do such a thing. "And well, I found something. Something that's probably _very_ valuable to Bree."

"And that would be what?"

"Brian's journal," she answered, her voice dropping lower. "It has a lot about Briana's like and dislikes. And I can see why Briana misses him so much. He's the ideal bother for anyone."

Johnny looked as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "Are you _insane_? Briana would _kill_ to make sure that journal stayed in her possession. For your sake, I hope you didn't damage it, who knows what Briana would do if she found out."

"Well," said Amanda, trying to brighten up Johnny's worried look. "At least I now know what kind of cake Briana prefers."

"And what would that be?" Johnny sighed with _less_ enthusiasm than Amanda had expected.

She frowned but continued, "Briana likes cookie cake. Chocolate chip _preferred_."

"Interesting." Johnny nodded.

"You ought to ask you brother more about Briana and her family. I know it might be a sore topic, but your family and Briana's were really close," she suggested. "Stephen even took photos for Briana's seventh birthday."

"He took _photos_?" This information was obviously new to Johnny.

"Yeah, Brian wrote that he was _really_ good at it too."

Johnny nodded and headed towards the librarian's desk to check out the books he was holding. Amanda followed, half reluctant to read the mystery novel.

* * *

><p>Briana sat on the ground behind some bushes. She'd often used this spot to eat lunch or to collect her thoughts; she could even ditch school just by sitting there if she wanted to. But today she was there for other purposes.<p>

On her lap, of course, was the black hard cover diary. Quietly, she inspected everything she wrote about what had happened the previous nights, trying to recall any detail she'd neglected to write down. _Desperately_ trying to make sense of what had occurred in order to predict what could possibly happen next.

She wouldn't know where to go or what to do come night fall if she couldn't even get a shadow of an idea as to what to do.

Also, Briana sat in the bushes in order to attempt to spy on the Justice League sidekicks. She couldn't be seen from the door that opened and closed whenever a student went somewhere during lunch period. There was a fifty fifty chance that Robert and Zatanna would come through there. They might even say something useful.

"Hey, Bree, I was wondering where you'd disappeared to," greeted Amanda, walking up to Briana's bush. "So what's up? I just talked to Johnny and he didn't take too well when the subject turned around to you."

Her good natured friend took a seat beside her with an inquisitive expression on her face. Briana knew that Amanda wanted an explanation and wouldn't be put off until the traditional after school debriefing.

"Alright, I'll tell you if-" Briana started quietly, but stopped upon hearing two familiar voices.

"Bree, _what's_ going on?" Amanda asked when she stopped. Briana knew that she would have to act fast in order to ensure that Amanda didn't blow her cover.

She quickly put a hand over Amanda's mouth and hoarsely whispered, "_Amanda_, you _need_ to be quiet and _whatever_ you do, don't move a muscle. It's a matter of urgency."

Briana knew that this would inevitably alarm Amanda, she rarely got involved with the Nightingale's investigations and even then it wasn't anything involving physical contact. She normally listened to Briana _rant_, _moan_, and _groan_ about something that wasn't working out. _Never_ had Amanda been in the position she was in now.

"Robin, we've been looking for hours and I haven't noticed anything," moaned the Grayson girl.

"I know, but the Nightingale _has_ to be around this school somewhere," Robert replied. "Though, she's proving more evasive than I first thought."

"_Nonexistent_ is the word _I'd_ use."

"Trust me, she's here. That Briana girl might be a good place to start, but those cheerleaders are what I'd look into. Especially Danielle Wagner, she's got the right build and possibly even the right …" Robert trialed off and Briana's heart skipped several beats. She and Amanda hadn't moved an inch since the two had started talking, they didn't dare.

Briana felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She hoped that Robert – who she now knew to be Boy Blunder – wasn't looking in their direction. He might actually spot them in the bushes.

"She has the right what?" Zatanna pressed.

The Ding-Bat sighed. "She has the right personality."

Briana almost laughed at the failure of the protégé of the world's greatest detective. _Danielle Wagner_? The right _personality_? _Ha_! The cheerleader couldn't tell a cheer from a fighting stance, let alone a pompom from a bola.

Despite her slightly hurt ego, she couldn't complain especially when she was actually on his suspect list. How she'd ended up on Boy Blunder's list, she would have loved to have known in order to avoid a repeat it, especially when she thought she'd played the music geek rather well.

"How would you know that?" retorted Zatanna.

Briana raised any eyebrow at this statement. _Didn't Robin tell his friends about our encounter?_

She pondered the possibility that Robin _hadn't_ informed the other sidekicks about his fight with her. That roused even more questions about what had happened. What _were_ Robin's reasons for attacking her?

"Last night, when I went to check out the bugler alarm, I encountered the Nightingale."  
>"Did you talk to her?" There was awe evident in the Grayson girl's voice.<p>

"Not _exactly_, let's just say that she's not the talkative type, but I was able to talk to her a little bit," replied Robin. "Plus, I know her abilities pretty well."

With that the two superheroes walked into the other building, leaving Briana and Amanda in safety.

"Would you care to explain what _that_ was about?" Amanda said after Briana removed her had from her mouth.

But Briana only stared across the lawn towards the road that was near their school. She ran her hand through her dark locks with a sigh.

"_Perfect_," Briana muttered.

"Who were those people and _why_ are they looking for the Nightingale?" Amanda demanded.

Briana sighed. "If you promise not to freak out, I'll tell you some of what happened. But like I said, I'm not the only bird in Daleville, not anymore."


	19. Friends and Cake Frosting

**Friends and Cake Frosting**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**2:47 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Zatanna was not bored. <em>No,<em> she was _really_ bored. If she had actually been to this high school to learn then she might have actually be enjoying herself, but _nope_ she was here to hunt down a vigilante that may in some way help them find the Shadows or something like that.

That objective had been _less_ than achieved. As far as Zatanna understood, they hadn't uncovered a single clue. Robin may have some idea, but she didn't know what she was looking for.

Ever since she and Robin separated to observe the two suspects – Briana Thomas _and_ Danielle Wagner – Zatanna hadn't learned anything new. She hoped that Briana hadn't noticed that she had a shadow over the afternoon portion of school. It would be awkward to attempt to explain why she was following the ebony haired girl.

Robin had hacked into the Daleville High's database and had e-mailed her Briana's class schedule which she was able to check on her i-Phone. A quite impressive thing actually considering that Briana was a sophomore at thirteen.

* * *

><p>Jack smiled contentedly as he looked over his sketch.<p>

Not _bad,_ not _bad at_ all, he thought. He had finally finished his sketch that his final until project would be based off of.

He didn't think himself as much of an artist, but he was better than some.

Class wouldn't be over for another fifteen minutes, so he looked over the room, racking his brain for something to do in order to pass the time.

Most students were still working on their sketches or beginning to start their final project. Jack figured he would start tomorrow and relax.

Relaxing as best anyone could while seated on a stool, Jack's mind began to wander all over, until it finally settled on a certain subject: Briana. He wished that she would talk with him.

At one point, he remembered that they'd been inseparable. Playing together, sitting together at meal times, they'd pulled childish pranks together, but they had both matured since those days, matured quite a bit in fact. That would be expected considering that they were seven and a half and nine and nine months old at the time, but as far as he could tell they were still pretty close. They _did_ a make a _great_ team when it came to basketball.

_Still_, he couldn't help but sense a gap the size of the Grand Canyon between him and Briana. Jack really didn't like this and he wanted to fix that somehow.

"So, you really think that your mom could a make the cookie cake?" Jack heard Amanda ask and he turned his attention to the adjacent table where Amanda and Johnny sat.

They were the two people Briana hung around with more often than not. If anything his separation from Briana began after Amanda came to the orphanage, which wasn't all that strange to him. Briana was a girl and needed to hang out with her own gender as often - if not more than - she hung around him, _but_ then there was Johnny.

Johnny Miles, a boy whom Briana had been friends with even before Jack had come into her life, but while he and Briana had drifted apart, Johnny and Briana had grown closer. Jack really didn't see a reason for this, but he may as well find out.

"_Yes_, I'm sure that she can make the cake," he heard Johnny mumble complacently. "_In_ _fact_, I'm sure that I could make a cookie cake if I had to."

_What would he need to make a cookie cake for?_ Jack thought, raising an eyebrow at this statement.

"That's perfect, _but_ unnecessary. I'm sure your mom can make the cake in time. But what are we going to do about the present's problem? What the _heck_ could Briana want?" Amanda thought aloud.

Johnny merely shrugged passively. "Beat's me; Briana's a hard one to figure out. Maybe think about getting her a shirt or something."

The brunette nodded thoughtfully. "_Maybe_, but even then Briana's still _hard_ to get stuff for."

Jack raised both eyebrows. What was going on here, and why were they going to get something for Briana? And Briana liked cookie cake?

"But we've still got to come up with something, the surprise party is only days away and I haven't got any _ideas_ or _money_ for that matter." Amanda sighed, glaring at her project as if it held the answer that she was looking for.

_A surprise party … for Briana?_ Jack mulled that over for a minute. It sounded like Johnny and Amanda were planning Briana's birthday party or something, but whatever it was, it _was_ _intended_ for Briana and he knew that he could help.

He walked over to the duo inconspicuously at first, but sat down beside Amanda.

"_So_ what's this surprise you're talking about?" Jack questioned calmly. The two glance conspicuously at each other. Jack had already known it would take some coaxing to get the two conspirators to let him in on their plot, but he knew a few things about Briana that other didn't and _those_ would be his bargaining chips.

"What surprise are you _referring_ to, Blonde?" Amanda responded with a coy tone taking hold of her voice.

Jack smiled. He'd learned this game a long time ago. He knew how to play with information better than Amanda. "_Why_, the one _involving_ Briana _of_ _course_?"

Amanda scowled, clearly upset with herself about letting this information get further abroad, but Johnny had an indifferent mask on.

"If you tell Briana _anything_ about it, you'll regret the day you were born," Amanda threatened. Jack could see her threat was real and sincere, but he merely chuckled at her threat. She gave him a weird look, as if she were taken aback by his laugh.

"_Amanda_, I have no intention of telling Briana that you're planning a surprise party. I would, _however,_ like to be in on your plans, if that is alright with you," Jack suggested and he got up to let Amanda mull over his request. "Take your time, and think about it, _just_ let me know your decision before Briana's party. I would, at least, like to celebrate it with you guys. She's my friend too, you know."

* * *

><p>Briana drummed her fingers impatiently against the desk and yawned. Last class of the day and <em>somehow<em> it managed to be one of the most _boring_ classes her school had to offer: Career Exploration.

In front of the class was a local shop keeper: Mr. Tanner. If she recalled correctly, he was a baker.

_His roof is a_ heck _of a nice place to hide,_ Briana mused, recalling more than one instance that had driven her into hiding on that shadowy rooftop.

This week Ms. Brady – the teacher for Career Exploration – had managed to get some of the residents of Daleville to come and talk about their jobs. An interesting discussion by far, but Briana remained uninterested. Baking bread, or managing a shop, was _not_ something she intended to do when she grew up.

"Mr. Tanner, didn't Scourge rob your bakery a year or so back?" someone in the class questioned and Briana mentally groaned. Why? _Oh_, _why_ did someone have to ask _that_?

She also berated herself in her mind as she felt her cheeks flush. _Uh_, whatever _idiot_ had asked that question had unknowingly brought the most embracing memories to Briana's mind.

It hadn't been the best moment in her hero career, or _life_ for that matter, and Amanda and Johnny got a nice laugh about it for weeks to come. That particularly annoyed Briana. Even to this day, Briana could _swear_ that she hadn't gotten all the frosting out of her cowl.

"_Yes_," Mr. Tanner spat.

"And wasn't he stopped by the Nightingale?" pressed a student whose name Briana thought was Henry.

"'_Stopped'_ is a term _I'd_ use _loosely_," reprimanded the baker. "Those two night-fiends may as well have had a food fight in my shop. It took me weeks to get donut jelly off the ceiling."

"It was _that_ bad?" Briana almost blurted out, but restrained her tongue. No point in asking such a question that could lead to her undoing, especially when in the corner of the room sat Zatanna Grayson, a superhero in disguise.

Before anyone could ask any further question, concerning the Nightingale or otherwise, the bell trumpeted the day's end, every student jumped straight out of their chairs, snatched up their knapsacks, and all but sprinted out of the door.

"Tomorrow we will have a visitor from S.T.A.R. Labs come-," Ms. Brady attempted to announce over the hubbub of exiting students but her voice was lost in the uproar.

Wait, _did she say S.T.A.R. Labs?_ Briana pondered, but followed the flow of students as they went in the general direction of their lockers.

In short order, Briana had reached her locker and carefully dialed in the combination before she collected her things she'd need to complete her homework. Thankfully, whatever power affecting the hero side of her life had yet to deviate from torturing the Nightingale and hadn't given Briana any assignment too arborous. All in all, aside from the hero twinge to the day, it had gone smoothly _except_ for …

Briana chanced a quick glance over her shoulder, but a certain _sidekick_ had disappeared into her school's hall.

Since noon, Briana had spotted Zatanna in just about every class she took. That had made her task of remaining unassuming extremely difficult, but not impossible. Thus far she'd managed to hide her black cover dairy with the most incriminating evidence and keep from acting too embraced at the mention of her bakery encounter with Scourge.

"_Hey_, Bree," someone called and Briana swiveled around, forcing herself out of any vivid recollection she was having about what happened. (Why that irrelevant and embracing memory wouldn't stop nagging her, Briana didn't know.)

It was Amanda, but Johnny wasn't with her, which would be rather odd on a normal day, but when she considered what mood he was in with her, she didn't find it at all weird.

She sighed, she'd have to find some way of apologizing, not an easy thing, she wasn't at _all_ good at it. For her, more often than not, acting spoke _volumes_ more than her words, maybe she could do something that would signify her apology.

"Hey, Amanda, what's up?" Briana stated casually, the feeling that those sidekicks were still watching hadn't dissipated yet.

Amanda shrugged. "Nothing really. Schools out, shall we go?"

Before she was allowed time to answer, Amanda had already marched towards the door. Briana followed; she wasn't planning on sticking around Daleville High any longer than _necessary_.

"Amanda, where's Johnny?" she asked after a block or so separated them form the school.

"His parents picked him up," simply answered Amanda.

"Makes _sense_, I guess that means Stephen's been released from the hospital," Briana assessed.

"_How_ on _earth_ do you know this stuff?" Amanda asked flabbergasted. "You haven't seen him since _P.E._, and _yet_ you're still making assumptions about what's happening."

Briana rolled her eyes. "It's a plausible guess, _especially_ when you take into account that Johnny's upset over Stephen being in the hospital."

What Briana would have said if she wasn't near listening ears would have been something like: "It's a plausible guess, _especially_ when take into account that Johnny's upset over the fact that _I_ let Stephen get in the condition he's in."

They walked in silence, without Johnny she felt like there was an essential piece to the puzzle missing.

Presently, Briana halted. They had arrived at a point where the residential area and the business part of town merged. Burney's newsstand wasn't that far ahead and neither was the orphanage, but Briana _didn't_ intend to go directly home, _not_ today.

"_Hey_, _Bree_, what's the hold up?" Amanda said, finally noticing that Briana was no longer keeping pace with her.

"There's someone I need to talk to before the days up. Do you think you could by my newspapers for me?" She smiled at Amanda, hoping that her friend would catch the encoded message underneath the innocent statement.

"Wha – _oh_, yeah, sure, Bree, take _all_ the time you need. And don't worry, Mr. Mathews won't find out," Amanda said before again starting her trek to the orphanage. Briana let a barely noticeable smile appear, she was _very_ lucky to have a friend like Amanda and _relieved_. When Amanda said Mr. Mathews – their caretaker – wouldn't find out, she _meant_ _it_.

Briana stood rooted where she was; it'd been years since she'd ever willingly gone to where she wanted to go. And even then it'd been only because the play area was rather entertaining.

Finally, she sighed and began trekking further into the ornate business area of Daleville. She couldn't help _but_ feel out of place in such a pleasant setting, a place where she had once _belonged_, but she buried those feelings quickly. To her, there was no point in feeling like that, especially when it was _such_ a long walk to Jenkins and Associates.


	20. Pranks and Patience

**Pranks and Patience**

**Gotham City, Connecticut**

**3:59 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Artemis stared eagerly out the window as the public bus pulled into the area of her home.<p>

_Come _on, _can't this bus go _any _faster, _she thought glaring at her watch and realizing that it'd taken too long for her patience to get home.

The bus finally pulled up to her stop and she quickly got off and headed for the apartment complex where she and her mom lived.

It only took her perhaps five minutes of climbing to get to their level, but she didn't mind, not today at least. Today, Wally would get what was coming to him. This very afternoon that annoying speedster would get a taste of his own medicine.

Once in the apartment, Artemis quickly changed into her midriff revealing green costume. Blatantly ignoring the Mount Everest amount of homework she had and headed for the Cave.

"Artemis, where are you going?" her mom asked, wheeling her chair in front of Artemis's room.

"To the mountain," Artemis replied, pulling her quiver onto her back.

"Is Wally going to be there?" questioned her mother.

Artemis could only smile. "I hope _so_."

"So are you going to ask him on a date?"

"_Wha_ … No, _Mom_, I am _not_ asking _that_ pain in the rear out. Not _ever_." Artemis's eyes widened at her mother's accusation. No way, not in a million years would _she_ ask _Wally West_ out.

Her mother merely smiled as she wheeled herself out of Artemis's door way.

"Just make sure that your homework is complete before tomorrow morning. Gotham Academy is not a school whose homework is something you blow off," her mother called after her as she opened her bedroom window and took to the rooftops with a knapsack slung against her quiver. Wally was going to get what was coming to him that afternoon, and all she needed was Zatanna's help.

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**4:16 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Amanda walked into the orphanage the second to last person to arrive home from high school. She wondered how much time Briana would need before she came home.<p>

In the summer time, Briana might be hours - sometimes days - studying, investigating, or even visiting the resting place of missed relations.

She quickly marched up the flights of stairs that led to their bedrooms, acting as nonchalant as possible. Amanda always wondered if Silvia would decide to tattle on Bree when this sort of occurrence happened, but that rarely happened. At least it proved that Silvia had a human side half the time.

"So where is Briana?" Jack asked as she passed his doorway.

"She had some business to attend to at school," Amanda replied.

Jack nodded. "Have you come to a decision?"

Amanda narrowed her eyes at the blonde teen. "Not yet, you'll just have to wait until Johnny and I have gotten a chance to think about it."

"Take your time." He nodded again as she headed to her room. Homework and studying lay ahead of her, along with some planning.

Briana was away and Amanda could continue reading Brian's journal. He had been a useful resource and he could be that still. He hadn't written anything useful about Briana's choice of toys. Maybe a shirt was the best option for Briana's presents.

Amanda exasperatedly plopped down in the desk chair with her knapsack at beside her.

She glanced at a picture of Briana's old family. The bird girl's brother, mother, and father were standing happily together. They looked like the perfect family, even if a six year old Briana looked out of place, as if she were a raven among a group of hawks. That comparison was appropriate; Briana's raven black hair was extremely odd among a family of brown haired people.

She spun the chair around with her back away from the desk, and glanced around their room's shabby décor until her eyes landed on the old guitar. The old instrument belonged to Briana.

_The bird girl actually _does _sing quite well,_ Amanda thought. _Maybe her present doesn't have to be a toy per say…_

* * *

><p>Briana stepped coolly into the Jenkins and Associates building. The familiar calm of the lobby hadn't change much. In fact everything of what she saw in the lobby had remained unchanged since she was a young child.<p>

The place still smelled of some air freshener, the carpet looked the same cloud white, and the plush chairs and couches hadn't been rearranged. The play area still had the same toys that she recalled. Even the magazines on the coffee table by the couch looked like they hadn't been exchanged for the newest editions. She was also willing to bet that there was still a hollow book on the decorative book case that she and her brother had hidden her favorite coloring books and a portable CD player.

"Can I help _you_?" the secretary at the front desk interrupted Briana's thoughts, asking her a question in a condescending tone that indicated she had a low tolerance level for teens who looked like they stepped out of the bad part of town.

Briana nodded confidently. "Yeah, I'd like to see Mr. Jenkins."

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, giving Briana a good look up and down. Almost as if she were sizing up Briana. Normally, Briana would not have tolerated something like this, but she needed to see Mr. Jenkins.

"No, but if you would kindly tell Mr. Jenkins that Briana Thomas would like to see him, I'm sure he'd see me," Briana calmly stated, using a tactic she'd seen used throughout her early childhood.

The secretary glared at Briana while pursing her lips together in annoyance. Briana already could see that she wasn't going to tell Mr. Jenkins anything about her just yet. "He's busy at the moment, and will be for hours. If you would _like_ to make an appointment, there's an opening in his schedule _next_ month."

"No, I can wait," she said with a smile. "But I'm sure he'll see me, if you tell him."

The secretary sneered disdainfully at Briana. "Mr. Jenkins has a lot of more important people to see today and since _Briana_ doesn't have an appointment, you'll have to wait until he has time to see _someone_ like _you_."

Briana smirked. The secretary had all but invited her to stay. "That's fine. I've got a lot of homework today."

**Keystone, Missouri**

**3:26 P.M. CDT**

* * *

><p>Wally looked at the clock on the wall with both <em>longing<em> and _loathing_. He wanted to get out of the torturous thing called high school, but he also didn't want to go to the Cave. _Oh_, he definitely didn't want to go to the Cave. His best friend may be there, but his demise also may lie in wait at the Cave for him.

Artemis probably planned to flay him alive and then barbeque whatever remained of his flesh. She probably planned some horrible and humiliating prank for him.

The dreaded and hoped for sound of the final bell sounded and Wally headed for home. He was glad for every scrap of homework that his teachers had given him. It would keep him from his doom.

Wally arrived home eager to procrastinate on his homework. He put his knapsack by a couch as he headed to the kitchen.

He chose his snack and saw that his mom was talking on the phone.

He paused momentarily to see the concern on his mother's face. He wondered who she was talking to, but his homework and alibi called for him.

_First I'll get _English _out of the way, then I'll do math, and then history. And then best of all: science,_ Wally mused as he took a full bag of chips and the package of Oreos to his room along with his knapsack laden with his homework to his room.

"Wally," his mother called from the den. "That was Barry on the phone, he called to tell you that there's a mission you're got to go on. You need to go to the Cave immediately."

"_Crap_," Wally mumbled as he grabbed his Kid Flash costume from his closet. Apparently, fate had doomed him to be either humiliated or castrated at the hands of an angry archer.


	21. Disowned

**Disowned**

**Somewhere over Connecticut**

**4:32 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Wally could feel Artemis glaring dagger into the back of his head. He wished he'd been able to get a back seat in the bio-ship instead of a front one so he wouldn't have his back turned to the archer who probably planed to write his obituary.<p>

It didn't make him feel any better that he'd been paired with her to search the stupid town of Daleville for some vigilante who _supposedly_ assisted them on their previous mission to Daleville. He especially didn't like looking all over that town for the Nightingale because Robin was already there and hadn't found the vigilante yet. The Boy Wonder was the protégé of Batman, the world's greatest detective and he couldn't even find the bird girl.

_Lucky Megan, Connor, and Kaldur,_ he thought. While he, Artemis, Robin, and Zatanna were tracking a vigilante down, the rest of the team had to guard S.T.A.R. Labs. While guard detail was boring, it was _oh_ _so_ totally safer than running around with someone who probably wanted him dead. _This is going to be the longest mission_ ever.

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**4:39 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Roy leaned against the chain link fence surrounding the skate park. Earlier he'd gone back to his hotel room and changed into something more suitable for blending in with the high school populace. Fortunately, Alonzo was still at the park, and hadn't left while he'd been away.<p>

He could tell that the skater wasn't telling him something important, something _bird_ related. Roy mentally took note of all the people Alonzo greeted by name or with a smile, either he knew who the Nightingale was or was some sort of informant for her. Therefore it was reasonable to believe that he could lead Roy straight to the bird girl.

"When's this punk gonna leave?" the archer complained under his breath as he observed Alonzo greet some more just arriving skaters. "He's _got_ to leave sometime."

At least during his time watching Alonzo (which _wasn't_ creepy when he _didn't_ think about it) he could see why the Nightingale might ally herself with the skater. He was able to pull of some _amazing_ tricks on his board, that, when applied correctly, someone could easily do some aerial maneuvers that the Nightingale was probably capable of. So Alonzo probably would be a useful ally in the bird girl's line of work.

_Wonder how Robin's doing? Hopefully it's better_ than_ my investigation,_ Roy mused, longing for his own skate board as he watched one skater do a trick that he'd found particularly difficult.

* * *

><p>Robin watch patiently as Danielle Wagner practiced some gymnastic routines at the Thomas Gymnastic Center. She definitely could be the Nightingale, but something still didn't make sense to him. He'd seen the Nightingale all <em>but<em> limp away from her scrimmage with Scourge and have to reign in what little strength she had to fight him.

Plus she had also gotten a nice laceration on her hand due to one of the villain's throwing knives; such a wound would _not_ have allowed someone to recover quickly enough to be doing floor exercises as if everything were perfectly fine. At the least, he would have expected a bandaged hand, but Danielle _wasn't_ showing _any_ signs of a fight such as the Nightingale had had.

"Are we done _yet_?" Zatanna ask. She was obviously getting bored. "This is getting both _weird_ and _out_ of hand."

"Almost," Robin commented. "I think we've got everything that we need right now. But I think we need to find out more about Briana, too."

"Good, she seemed to have a _far_ more interesting life than a _cheerleader_," she replied as they walked to the lobby of the gymnastic center.

It was actually one of the nicest buildings they had seen in Daleville yet. The equipment was very up-to-date and also appeared to be well used. The lobby housed trophy cases containing numerous tokens and winnings that had accumulated over the years. The Daleville gymnastics team seemed to be just as good as Gotham Academy's.

The lobby also had mural in it, right between the two trophy chases, running along it was a low shelf with little knick-knacks on it.

Robin stopped for a moment to look at it. When he'd first come in he hadn't thought much of it, but now that he got a better look at it he thought more of it.

On the top of the painting were letters painted in gold that formed a downwards curving sentence: "_In Loving Memory of …_" Underneath that was a portrait of three people. A boy about the age of sixteen with short dark brown locks and a bright smile was flanked by two adults. To the boy's left was a woman with a petite form with her light brown hair in a bun. To the boy's right was a man of equal stature and hair color, but older, the two looked so similar that Robin supposed that they were father and son. At the bottom the sentence finished and curved upwards: "_Brian, Anthony, and Sarah Thomas_".

_Wonder who they were? _Robin thought, examining the mementos that lay on the low shelf among some lite scented candles.

Robin made a mental note to look into the people portrayed in the mural. They shared their last name with Briana, but those people had little resemblance to the raven hair girl whom he suspected could be the Nightingale.

* * *

><p>Jack stared bleakly at his English homework. Grammar was his least favorite thing to go over. Plus Troy goading him over his "<em>love life<em>" wasn't helping.

Hailey had apparently taken the steps to interfere with his friendship with Briana.

"You like Briana, you _genuinely_ like Briana," his friend marveled. "Why didn't I see it before?"

Jack looked up from his paper to glare at him. Troy had sandy brown hair and lively blue eyes, and a naturally _noisy_ personality. Why Jack had chosen a best friend who liked to tease and annoy other about thing like this was beyond him.

"You didn't see it because there was _nothing_ there in the first place," Jack replied, exasperated with Troy's comments. "We're just friends."

"_Yeah right_, you have been '_just friends'_ for as long as I can remember. That platonic friendship has out lasted any friendship _I've_ ever seen."

"Then you have been _sorely_ deprived of good company, and might I remind you of an _obvious_ fact: Briana is thirteen going on fourteen, and I'm sixteen and will be seventeen in a few more months. Any relationship, aside from a really _good_ friendship, will likely end in disaster." He glared at the smug Troy. His best friend didn't get how delicate and _weird_ dating Briana would be.

"Yeah, _physically_ Briana is a fourteen year old, _but_ her psyche is that of an adult or maybe an eighteen year old, I can't tell really. But, what I mean is she's not your average teen - more mature. So, what difference would there be between you dating Briana _and_ dating someone your age?" Troy smirked, he _definitely_ didn't understand anything.

"I can think of a _long_ list," Jack deadpanned and returned his attention back to his slow death by grammatical error correction.

"_Okay_, but let me just say that if you don't try you won't know what might've happened."

"How do you spell attribute?" Jack asked after several minutes of silence.

"A-T-T-R-I-B-U-T-E," spelled Amanda declaring her presence.

"Well, _hello_, Amanda, and _what_ brings a beautiful thing such as yourself to our humble abode?" Troy greeted with a smile.

"I was wondering if Blonde got the notes for math class. I was dozing and missed a good half and need it to do my homework," she deadpanned, giving Troy a sour glare that could curdle dairy.

"Are you _sure_ that you didn't just come here to see me?" Troy unashamedly asked.

Amanda looked as if she were about to give Troy an oversized portion of what she thought of him, but Jack intervened.

"Yeah, I've got the notes, would you like my help on the work? I'm having trouble with that too."

"Sure," Amanda readily agreed. "I need all the help I _can_ get."

With that she waltzed out of his and Troy's room, but not before aiming a glower in Troy's direction.

Jack grabbed the math notes and quickly followed her. He doubted that any conversation he and Amanda would have would be about math though.

"You're not in my Algebra class, Amanda, what's this actually about?" he asked when they were well enough away from his room and Troy's keen hearing.

"No, but we have the same teacher. You're right though, I've already finished my math homework, I just needed to get you out of there and to a _more_ private place before we talked," she said crossing her arms over her chest as she took a seat in the desk chair of her room.

He sat down on the bed opposing the desk chair, and glanced around. Aside from being on the opposite side of the building and belonging to girls, the room was almost identical to his own room that he shared with Troy.

There wasn't anything especially interesting about the room aside from the fact that Briana occupied it. The bed on the side farthest from the door belonged to Briana, and with the exception of a simple Justice League poster, was unadorned. The bed was neatly made and he could see that Briana's knapsack wasn't around, so he could also assume that Briana wasn't back from school yet, but it was late so he had to wonder where she was.

"This is about the surprise party, isn't it?" Jack asked pointedly.

"_Yeah_, you're in. I haven't talked to Johnny, but I don't think he'd care," Amanda said, and Jack raised any eyebrow. Johnny not caring about Briana's surprise party? Jack didn't think that was like him, from what he knew Johnny was a better friend than _that_. "But that's not the point. I need your help. I've learned everything I can from … other resources."

"'Other resources'?"

"A journal, okay? The point is that you know more about Briana than I do, at least more about other subject matter than I do," Amanda started.

"So what do you want to know about Briana?" Jack calmly asked, choosing to ignore what probably was a confession of invading Briana's privacy.

"For one, what's her favorite soft drink? And we're also _lacking_ in the present department."

"If you need to know _that_ about Briana, then what don't I know about her?"

"You've _no_ idea, but start talking. I _will_ kick you out of our conspiracy if you're uncooperative," she threatened lightly.

* * *

><p>"Hey, kid, how you doing?" Stephen greeted, pulling his younger brother into a rough hug. He'd just been release from the hospital's watchful eye, and was getting a warm home coming from his family: Johnny, little Pete, Uncle Commish, his mom and dad.<p>

He was happy to see them, but he wasn't exactly quite feeling like he wanted to talk with his happy family right yet, especially after failing to apprehend Scourge.

His brother returned the embrace. "Pretty good, how about you?"

"Worse for wears, but not too bad, though," Stephen responded, trying his best to appear happy. His ruse might fool Johnny, and it certainly would fool Peter, but his mom, dad, and uncle wouldn't be tricked. "Come on; let's go home. I'm tired of hospitals."

"Yes, let's, and Steph, I want you to ride with me," said Travis as he patted him on the shoulder and pulled him into a hug, then whispered in his ear, "We need to talk."

"Okay," interrupted his mom. "I've got you're favorite at home, but if we stand around here, it'll take 'til midnight to cook."

His mom herded the Miles brood out with Peter happily waving to everyone they passed. Stephen wondered how long his youngest brother's innocent state would last, because, _unfortunately_, it would not last forever.

Travis led him to his car. It, of course, was a police car, unmarked though.

"How you feelin', Steph?" Travis asked after several minutes of silence.

"Will you quit calling me that, _Uncle Commish_, it's too girly," Stephen protested, feeling slightly crabby now thanks to his uncle's _ridiculous_ nickname that he'd out grown at the age of ten.

"_Seriously_, though, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, but it's not my body that's hurting," he answered.

"Your ego shouldn't get in the way of your job," Travis said. "_But_ neither should your eagerness to prove yourself."

"Yeah, but everyone thinks you're going easy on me _because_ I'm your nephew, how _else_ am I gonna earn their respect?"

"Getting yourself killed because of a rookie mistake isn't one of them."

"And neither is getting my _ass_ saved by a vigilante!" he snapped. Stephen hated that he was saved by the Nightingale, not that he didn't appreciate it.

"The Nightingale isn't the issue here. You should have called for backup. Scourge isn't something your tackle alone," Travis said calmly, but Stephen could hear the underlying temper in his voice.

"Yeah, and that's _so_ _meaningful_ when you took him on by yourself to get Johnny back when that creep kidnapped him," he pointed out, glowering at Travis as he rested his head on his fist with his arm on the door.

"That … _that_ was my mistake and I'm very lucky that it didn't end in disaster. But you almost weren't that lucky, Scourge almost killed you," responded his uncle.

Stephen sighed. "I _know_."

"The only reason that you're alive is because _of_ the Nightingale."

"So _what_? She's still a vigilante. She's a criminal just like Scourge!"

"No, she might wear a mask and use similar tactics as that damned demon, but they are not the same. If they were, a lot of people would be dead and this city wouldn't be the way it is today." Stephen eyed his uncle carefully. Travis defended that vigilante with a passion and he'd never understood why. "Look, she might not do what she does within the boundaries of the law, but she's done a lot more to improve this city in the last three or four years than the efforts of our department combined over the last ten, _so_ don't be too quick to point fingers."

"Is that what this is about? Trying to convert me into _liking_ the Nightingale?" Stephen rolled his eyes. "Well, don't waste your breath, it isn't gonna work. I don't like the Nightingale and won't _ever_ like that _freak_."

"No, I just wanted to privately tell you that you're on suspension for a few days," Travis deadpanned.

"_What_?"

"Your rash actions have earned you a few days off from work. Trust me, you need to relax and loosen up. An encounter with Scourge is not something anyone should take lightly."

That conversation ended as they pulled into the parking garage of their apartment building. Travis parked his car, and Stephen got out, his mood not very good. He didn't want to sit at home and play video games like he used to in high school or even when he was suspended from duty other times. He'd never do anything like he used to in high school again anyway, especially when a certain friend wasn't there to enjoy it with him.

For his family's sake, Stephen put on a contented and happy disposition again. He'd drop his front once he got to his room, where he could sulk in private.

"I'm so glad that you're alright Stephen," Johnny expressed as they took the elevator to their floor.

"Yeah, me too," he answered. "How long 'til dinner, Mom?"

"It won't be for another half hour at least," she replied.

"Okay, I'll be in my room if anyone wants me."

Stephen sauntered into the apartment and entered his room. He could have gotten his own apartment if he wanted, but he liked staying with his family and he couldn't scrounge up enough money to afford any sort of place he wanted to live.

His room hadn't changed much since he'd graduated college. Clothing scattered on the floor, a few magazines hidden here and there that he wouldn't want his mom finding, a desk cluttered with papers (probably still had some incomplete homework from high school somewhere in there), a shelf with his cameras and film was above his desk and bed, and a six by six framed picture sat in a careful place on top of his dictionary and thesaurus at the corner of his desk.

With a heavy sigh, Stephen plopped down in his computer chair and turned on his small laptop for ultimately no reason. As he waited for the device to boot up, his eyes inevitably gravitated to the picture. It was probably one of the best he'd ever taken.

It portrayed two young smiling men, both sixteen years old. One of those men was Stephen and the other who had his arm over Stephen's shoulder was Brian, his deceased best friend.

Brian had always had a cheery disposition and that particular day had his best friend in a very, very good mood because it was his little sister's birthday, the last one that the Thomas family had celebrated together. Stephen really missed his best friend, especially on days like this when he felt like he was the only one who understood what he felt.

_I wonder what it'd be like if it'd been you that'd survived and not your sister,_ Stephen mused. _Maybe life wouldn't be so sullen all the time._

* * *

><p><em>Briana held tightly to a Beany-Baby cat as if it were her only life line. The black dress she'd worn to the funeral but a few hours earlier was starting to irritate her skin.<em>

_The kindly Mr. Jenkins guided her through the building to a conference room. Whatever he had called some her uncles, aunts, and other relations there for was about to begin._

_"Have a seat by me, Ms. Thomas," he said putting her in one of the black leather upholstered chair around the long table. "Don't worry about anything, Briana, everything will be alright."_

_The old man was very nice and kind to her. He'd even given her his clean handkerchief to dry her eyes, but she didn't need it now. Her eyes wouldn't lend her any more tears right now._

_Her relations filed in one by one. Their somber attire belayed some of the looks on their faces. But some of her cousins and aunts looked as somber as she was._

_"Thomas', and Stuarts', I am truly sorry for your tragic loss. Anthony and Sarah were some of my closest friends," began Mr. Jenkins._

_"So what did their will say?" bellowed Uncle Timothy interrupting Mr. Jenkins heartfelt speech._

_Mr. Jenkins kind expression hardened into a shrewd one. The expression was one Briana had seen many times before, but usually he was flanked by her parents and the trio usually meant business._

_"Yes," said Mr. Jenkins, producing a document and examining it. "This document is legally binding and exactly what Anthony and Sarah would want if they were taken away from one or both their children:_

_"Briana M. Thomas is to be looked after and cared for by her closest family member if they are willing. Her closest being Timothy Thomas, are you willing?"_

_Briana looked up at her uncle, he didn't look to be in a very good mood. She never was sure if he liked her, she always could sense an unspoken anger he had towards her and her father and she didn't like it._

_"No, Briana isn't my family member," he intoned at Mr. Jenkins and Briana began to slid in the seat. Maybe she could hide under the table away from her uncles' and aunts' gaze. Only her mom and dad and Brian really liked her and they weren't there, were ever going to be there again. Maybe if she could get under the table, she could sneak out of the room and hide somewhere safe, she could forget about all this._

_But a stern glance from Mr. Jenkins stopped her, he didn't want her to leave._

_Briana miserably glanced at each person whom Mr. Jenkins called upon, but each time they told him that they either weren't capable of taking care of her or didn't want to._

_Briana's lips trembled as the last name was called and as they too said no._

They don't want me,_ she thought. _No one wants me.

_A fresh tear rolled down her cheek. No one wanted her, not a single one. _

Well, that – that's just fine, I don't want them either,_ she resolved, trying to force hot tears of anger and sadness out of her eyes._

_"So what did we get?" bellowed Timothy fiercely._

_"Nothing," simply stated Mr. Jenkins, putting the will back in a manila envelope._

_"Nothing?" he echoed. "_Nothing_!"_

_"Yes, nothing, now would you all please leave? Our business has concluded," dismissed the bald lawyer._

_The people who Briana once called family quickly left none too pleased with the proceedings. Eventually the only people left in the conference room were Briana and Mr. Jenkins._

_"Do you want me to leave too?" Briana eventually collected the courage to ask._

_"No, Briana, the proceedings aren't over for you."_

_Briana looked at him with curiosity and tears while clutching the cat even tighter._

_Mr. Jenkins cleared his throat, pulled the document out of the envelope again, and continued, "The rest of the will is in your parent's words, but they are legally binding, would you like to hear them?"_

_Briana nodded eagerly. If her parents had said them, she knew that she could trust any words then. _

_"'If in the event, that either or both our children are disowned, then all the designated inheritance, aside from what has been allotted for charity and funeral expenses, is to go Brain and Briana when they come of age. The trust fund that has been set up for their college expenses will be at their disposal when they turn sixteen," Mr. Jenkins said solemnly._

_"What's gonna happen to me now?" Briana asked after a moment of silence indicated that the bald lawyer was done._

_"My dear, I'm not entirely sure, but your parents have requested that you stay in the Daleville orphanage until your brother could take care of you both, but unfortunately he's not here. So it would seem that your future is entirely in your hands," said Mr. Jenkins sadly._

_"Does that mean someone's gonna try to adopt me?" she asked fondly recalling the numerous time she coerced Brian into watching _Annie_ with her. Despite the happy ending of that movie, Briana didn't think she want to be adopted, and besides real life never had happy ending, at least not for her._

_"Only if you want to be," he kindly responded. "Just know that I'll be here whenever you need me. Will you remember that, Briana?"_

_The soon to be six year old nodded. "I will."_

Briana scowled as a tear rolled down her cheek as she recalled that godforsaken memory. She hated that one especially, no one had wanted her then and no one had wanted her since.

Maybe this _wasn't such a good idea, _she thought, scanning the rubric for the project again. Her family tree wasn't the best one in the orchards.

But she had come this far already, so why didn't she just stay around and find out. She had already ignored the _sneers_ of the secretary and anyone else who walked in expertly. She had already been waiting long enough that Mr. Jenkins secretary had probably given up on running her out by sheer lack of patience and Mr. Jenkins might be seeing her soon.

"_Well_, you've _definitely_ inherited your mother's negotiation skills despite the lack of blood relation," chuckled an old voice. Briana's head snapped up from the rubric to see Mr. Jenkins happily smiling at her.

The six foot tall old man had hardly changed since her parents will reading, though he did look more aged. He was still the bald, sharp featured lawyer she recalled.

"When Ms. Tracy informed me that a Briana had requested to see me, and _refused_ to leave, I knew it could only be you," he said with a good natured smile and offered Briana his hand. "It's been such a long time since a Thomas has walked through those doors, and I'm glad to see that the youngest has inherited their work skills."

Briana took his hand and gripped it confidently as she slug her knapsack over her shoulder.

"I'm glad you could make time for me, sir," Briana greeted.

"I would always make time for you, Briana. It's the least I could do, but I suppose this isn't a social visit."

"No, actually, there's some stuff I need to ask you about my family." Briana nodded.

Mr. Jenkins merely sighed. "Your parents always knew this day would be coming. Come on, you can ask whatever questions you have in my office."

"Huh?"

Briana followed the lawyer slightly, dumbfounded at his reply. That hadn't been what she'd expected, but it worked for her.

Jenkins led her through the halls to his office. Just like the lobby, his office hadn't changed at all, except for a few more plaque, certificates, and pictures that lined the walls. There were still black upholstered chairs, two in front and one behind the ornate oak desk.

"Have a seat, Briana." He motioned for her to take a seat. She sat in the black leather chair on the right, the one her father had sat in whenever they met with Mr. Jenkins. "So what are your questions?"

He sounded too sullen at this meeting. It wasn't like his usual self.

"This is about my school project. They want me to give my family tree of sorts, and I just wanted to know if you knew anything about my genealogy or what country my parents originated from," Briana questioned calmly, hoping that contradicted what Mr. Jenkins might feel.

"Oh? … _Oh_!" he exclaimed, seemingly stunned at Briana's question. "Well, I'm not very familiar with that aspect of your family. But I do know that your family is of English origin."

"As in England?"

"Yes, I believe that you've also got a family crest, but I honestly couldn't tell you what it was. Your parents had an entire binder somewhere among their possessions devoted entirely to your family's history," Mr. Jenkins said, he seemed happy to answer her questions having to do with this.

"Thanks, that was pretty much all I needed to know, but is there anything else that you might remember about my ancestry?" Briana asked, perceiving that there was something that Mr. Jenkins wasn't telling her.

"Adopted or _otherwise_?"

He gave her a look, the kind that meant he also perceived a double meaning, but whatever he thought she was alluding to didn't exist. She wanted to know about her adopted family's origins, they were practically her blood relatives. They were the only family she'd ever known, why would she want to know about someone who hadn't wanted her? Who'd dumped her on the Thomas's door steps at only a few months old?

"Adopted, of course, but while we're on the subject, why are you bringing up my blood relations? It is of relevance?" Briana questioned. Mr. Jenkins had brought the question upon himself, he'd alluded to it and she'd just used the tactics she'd seen her mom and dad use to do their work.

"Hmm, you're going to be fourteen, I suppose it's time."

_Okay,_ that _was _cryptic, Briana thought before letting her curiosity get the better of her and blurted out, "Old enough for _what_?"

She wasn't afraid of being denied the information by her outburst or she would have controlled herself better and stuck to her tactics. Mr. Jenkins knew her well enough to avoid that.

"Your parents in their will requested sometime in your teen years – particularly at the beginning of them – that you be told about your origins. Your real family," he said in his usual order of business tone.

"But the Thomas' are my real family."

"I mean your blood family," he interrupted, silencing her protests. It'd been years since she had any real questions about her blood relations, she'd seen her adopted family murdered right in front of her so what did it matter who her blood relations where? "What do you already know?"

"What my parents told me, and I believe them _albeit_ the similarities to some fairy tales," she answered; now questioning the truth of her parents words. "That they found me on their door steps after a particularly rainy night and then went through the horrendous amount of paper work and legalities to adopt me."

"What they told you was the truth, but you know how we lawyers are. We tend to avoid telling the whole truth," Mr. Jenkins said. "You've learned a few tactics from your parents, but you still don't know when someone's telling the whole truth or a partial truth."

Briana couldn't help but inwardly smirk. She had learned that trait, but not at the age of five or six when she'd been told of her origin.

"So what _wasn't_ I told?"

"You weren't the only thing found that morning," he replied going to a filing cabinet and leafing through it. "There was a letter from your mother and a locket around your neck."

Briana raised an eyebrow. If _that_ didn't sound like a tale that belonged in a corny movie, then she didn't know what did.

"The letter also had your birth certificate and said that one day your birth mother would come back for you," said Mr. Jenkins, producing a manila envelope that she assumed contained the letter and locket.

He handed the package to her and she eyed it suspiciously, but accepted it. She put it carefully in her knapsack, planning to open it later.

"They belong to you now, and if you are still interested in the Thomas family tree, then I'll give you your uncle Timothy's phone number, maybe he'll give you something more to work with," offered Mr. Jenkins.

Briana gave him a dull glare. She still disliked that person _immensely_.

"_Yeah_, maybe he'll tell me something."


	22. Plans and Unknowns

**Plans and Unknowns**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**5:27 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Roy meandered through Daleville, following some sketchy directions from a street vender selling newspapers to the Daleville Public Library.<p>

He'd been forced to abandon his vigil of Alonzo to go meet with Robin and Zatanna, so he wasn't in a cheery disposition, and the rain that was starting to come down harder wasn't swaying his mood either.

He may respect the team, but that didn't mean he desired to team up with them. But when he thought about all that had occurred in the last three days, the team might be necessary to keep the Shadows from accomplishing their goal.

But really, what was their goal? What was the end game of this endeavor? Why the hell were they trying to raid S.T.A.R. Labs? And just _what_ _did_ the Nightingale know about it? Was she a cohort to the plot? Or was she simply a vigilante trying to help her city?

Robin and Batman seemed to think she was important to the mission, so it was a safe bet that he ought to find the bird girl somehow, but she was extremely elusive. For all he knew, she could have gone into hiding because of all the activity going on. In which case, how was an archer supposed to find a bird that didn't want to be found?

Roy took off his hood to his sweater as he entered the Daleville library. The library was a very nice building with a more modern style to its architecture than most of the structures in the growing town. It had the same feeling that any other library he'd been in, the calming atmosphere with books of all varieties lining the shelves, a gray light flooding in from the skylights, and computer rooms off to the sides.

He determinedly sauntered into the computer room. Bats had told him that the ebony magician and bird would be waiting for him there. Of course, finding them was easy, probably the easiest thing that he'd done all day.

"How'd your investigation go?" he asked taking a seat next to Zatanna, who lazily checked her e-mail.

"Not very well, the high school doesn't seem to be where the Nightingale likes to nest, but Rob thinks that there are some leads there," she replied, sounding a little exasperated. He didn't know the magician all that well, but he could tell that she had had a very boring day, maybe more so _than_ him.

"Yeah, well at least you didn't watch the high school flunkies try to break their necks through skate boarding." It hadn't been _that_ boring, but he had to say something.

"_Oh_, that sounds far more interesting than following a cheerleader around."

Roy had to raise an eyebrow at that comment and wonder what a cheerleader had to do with the Nightingale.

"It was _Robert's_ idea. Personally, I would have followed his other suspect. A ghetto girl would have been far more interesting than a cheerleader."

"It was _your_ idea to follow a cheerleader?" Roy was somewhat impressed with this. Robin wasn't usually one to be interested in girls, but he was approaching _that_ age.

Robin only snorted. "She was a possible candidate for being the Nightingale."

"Yeah, and so is the other one, isn't her name Briana? Yes, she's definitely the Nightingale," commented Zatanna sarcastically, "especially when _you_ can't find her."

"Briana doesn't have a family in Daleville, that's all I know," he responded. "I have yet to check the school records. That should tell us where Briana lives."

"So, you're just shadowing different suspects to see if they're the Nightingale?"

"Pretty much, but it's no different from what you're doing. Actually why were you hanging out at a skate park?"

Roy shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe the Nightingale was one of the punk skate boarding chicks, they seemed pretty good at what they were doing."

"I highly doubt that she's a punk," the bird boy commented.

"How would you know? You haven't _even_ seen her before."

"He fought the Nightingale last night," bluntly answered Zatanna. This surprised him; the Nightingale hadn't been there as far as he'd known. If she had, why hadn't she helped ward off Cheshire?

"She was there?" he questioned.

"Yes," Robin answered.

"_Where_? I didn't see her."

"_No_, but I did."

"Did you talk to her?"

"For a little bit, but our fists did most of it."

"Did she say anything about Cheshire?" Roy had to know if the Nightingale knew something about the cat assassin.

"She didn't say much of anything, it was more of a fight than a discussion," the bird boy replied. "I don't think she likes to talk much though."

The archer nodded. Maybe he'd have to find this less than chatty bird and attempt to have a conversation with her. If all else fails, he could always interrogate her.

"So how much longer 'til everyone else gets here?" Roy asked, already starting to get bored.

"An hour at least."

"And we're just gonna wait here?" That was the thing that he wanted to do least right now. He was supposed to work with the team to find the Nightingale, not sit around waiting for everyone to arrive.

Robin shrugged. "Pretty much, it'd be easier to narrow the suspect list if we had more than three pairs of eyes watching."

"Uh-huh, I don't think so," Roy responded. "I'm not part of the team. Tell me where your next suspect is and I'll meet you there."

Roy didn't want to wait. Besides he wasn't a member of the team, it'd be easier for him to work alone.

* * *

><p>Johnny tossed his rubber band ball into the air for at least the five hundredth time that afternoon for lack of anything better to do.<p>

His homework had yet to be completed and he wanted to do it, but he had too much on his mind to concentrate on math problems, grammatical errors, and the family tree report. The events the day had coiled his emotions up tightly and blinded him to some very important elements of his life.

Briana had meant well, and had undoubtedly risked her life to prevent Stephen from losing his. He'd been so upset that Stephen had ended up in the hospital that he'd forgotten what might have happened if she'd been unable to intervene in the first place. Even if Stephen refused to say that the Nightingale saved him, she had and Johnny had completely blown her off. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, but he'd have to wait until she came by that night.

After he'd mulled over what life would like without the Songbird, Johnny began to wonder about some of what Amanda said. Their conversation in the library had shed some light on a subject that he hadn't even known existed.

She'd mention that his family and Briana's had been close; that Brian and Stephen had been friends.

He'd never heard Stephen so much as mention the name 'Brian', let alone refer to one with the last name of Thomas. Johnny had always thought that he'd been the first Miles kid to become friends with the Thomas', even if all but one were dead. He'd always assumed that they'd gone to Briana's parents' funeral because his mom and dad had known them. But it'd never occurred to him that there had been a friendship between Brian and Stephen. All evidence was to the _contrary_.

Stephen never really saw much of Briana when she had her cowl off, but when he did, he avoided her. For the few study dates that he, Amanda, and Briana had had Stephen had camped out in his room. Johnny was even more confused on that point, if Briana was Brian's little sister then why did Stephen ignore her? Johnny would think he'd at least pay her some mind, if only out of respect for his friendship with her older brother.

Then there was the bit about Stephen being a photographer, it didn't confuse him at all, but it only made him wonder what had happened to the Stephen that Brian's journal described. He'd known that Stephen had dabbled into photography as a high school student, but the idea that his brother had been good at the art was foreign to him.

Stephen only took pictures occasionally, and devoted his life to becoming and now being a cop. He hadn't strayed over the years, but if Stephen had been good at photography, then why hadn't he become a professional?

_Maybe Briana isn't the only one whose life is dictated by a tragedy,_ Johnny mused as someone knocked on his door.

"Johnny it's almost time for dinner, could you tell your brother that?" His mom poked her head into his room.

"Sure." Johnny nodded.

Stephen's room was down the hall from his own and had belonged to his older brother for as long as he could remember. He wondered why Stephen hadn't moved out yet, but he'd never voiced that question. Over several years, it'd become one of the off limits places in the apartment. Stephen had never really been one to invite him in or hang out with him much.

"Stephen, it's about time for dinner," Johnny said, carefully opening the door.

Inside, Stephen was sprawled out on his bed, looking through the contents of an old binder. There was a sad smile on his brother's lips.

"Okay. ... Is there something else you need, kid?"

Johnny bit his, choosing his words carefully as he lingered in the door way. "Yeah … um, I was wondering if you knew Briana's brother - Brian."

Stephen propped himself up on his elbows and gave Johnny a questioning look. "Yeah ... why do you ask?"

His brother sounded slightly gruff, but Johnny answered causally, "Just wondering, that's all."

"What got you wondering?" Stephen raised an eyebrow, clearly doubting Johnny's answer.

Johnny felt trapped. He didn't want to tell Stephen that Amanda had read Brian's journal while doing some digging for Briana's surprise party. That would be too awkward and too unpredictable. He wasn't too keen on testing his brother's emotions with that bit of information.

"Briana just mentioned you at school that's all," Johnny lied, hoping that his brother bought it. He was horrible at lying, but he'd cultured the skill over the years in order to protect the Nightingale.

"_Uh-huh_, and what brought that about?" Stephen questioned, sitting up in his bed. "I highly doubt that she'd talk about me without having something … _angry_ to say."

Johnny was taken aback by that comment. It only confused him more. Why would Briana have any complaints against Stephen outside of police politics?

"Nothing too bad really, she mentioned you being Brian's friend, that's all." Johnny shrugged, hoping that that Stephen would stop asking questions soon.

"Isn't it going to be her birthday soon?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah, her birthday's this Saturday. How did you know?"

"How old is she turning?"

"Bree's gonna be fourteen. You know, she said that you were taking pictures at her last birthday party with her family. She said that they were really good. Were you a good photographer?" Johnny decided to let go of asking how Stephen knew when Briana's birthday was. His brother didn't seem to want to answer that question, but maybe he'd get an answer to some of his other questions.

Stephen shrugged modestly. "Yeah, I guess I was a pretty _fair_ photographer at one point, but that was a _long_ time ago."

"But did you take pictures at Briana's seventh birthday? 'Cause she said you did."

"She must have a pretty good memory." Stephen raised an eyebrow. "She was so enthralled by her cake that I would have expected her to remember something like that."

A smile crossed Stephen's face as he chuckled slightly, remembering something entertaining about that birthday. "So are you planning anything for Briana? She always enjoyed a party, you know."

"_No_, I didn't," Johnny thought to himself, and answered, "Yeah, Amanda and I are planning a surprise party for her."

"Amanda's you other friend from the orphanage, right? That's good, the surprise party, I mean. It takes a lot to surprise Briana. You should have seen the way her face lite up when Briana's mom brought out her cake that party." Stephen sighed. "I hope it all works out for you."

"Yeah, you and me both," he muttered.

"Having problems with it?"

"Yes, Briana's a hard one to come up with presents for. She doesn't really want much and the only thing she probably wants is something I can't give," he responded, alluding to Briana's favorite family member.

"I get what you mean." Stephen's voice sounded far off as if he understood what Briana felt, but only for a moment. "But don't sweat it; you'll come up with something before then. Come on, you said it was dinner time."

* * *

><p>A fine line formed on Briana's lips as she examined the letter her birth mother had left when she'd charged the Thomas' with protecting an infant Briana. The idea that someone other than the Thomas' had wanted her to be their daughter was foreign to Briana.<p>

_And maybe they still want me,_ she'd thought upon reading the letter. But she didn't raise false hopes, the letter was _old_ and if her birth parents hadn't come for her _then_, then it was doubtful that they would collect her now.

She turned the locket over and over again in her hand thoughtfully. It felt almost like a prize she'd won – like Robin's disc – but yet different somehow. The spaces for pictures were empty, she wondered if she could somehow get picture of her mom, dad, and brother.

_One weird way to combined my families,_ she thought, reverently putting the silver locket around her neck. She was very thankful that the small gem on the locket was an emerald green – her favorite color. She slipped it under shirt and directed her thought to a more pressing matter: the Nightingale's current mess.

Her hero career and night life was entering a whole new level of hell and it wasn't even the bird girl who was raising it.

Briana sighed deeply and picked up her black cover diary.

After coming back to the orphanage, she'd collect laundry and relocated her investigation work to the basement. She'd get peace and quiet there, but the concrete floor was _far_ from comfy. Around her lay the shoe box of newspaper clippings, her practice bola, and Robin's disc.

Briana knew that there was more that she need to know before she could continue, something still eluded her. She wished she had internet access. Her newspaper clippings, detailed notes, and extensive accounts could only help her so much. Living in the orphanage with its strict rules that she narrowly managed to break had its disadvantages, and without internet access she doubted that she could come up with some useful by twilight.

With her pen in hand, she wrote in her neat careful script: "_Leads thus far: S.T.A.R. Labs, assassin Cheshire after something important, sidekicks show up (a team possibly?), they protect labs, Scourge shows up at Powers Inc. not far from labs, I fight him and win, Robin shows up and I fight him, end result undetermined, the heroes fight assassins, at school Robin alias 'Robert Grayson' and his 'sister' 'Zatanna Grayson' show up, they were looking for me_."

Briana scanned the list she knew there was more that she hadn't deduced yet and there would be more in due time, but for now she all she could do was leave some space.

On a blank page, she wrote in the margin as a title: "_Who is Robin, the Boy Blunder?_" If he wanted to know who she was, then why not return the favor? But it would probably be just a scapegoat for her, she needed a break. All she wrote on that page was Robins resent alias of "_Robert Grayson._" Though she highly doubted that he would use his real name, she supposed that it might be a useful clue of some sort. Even if it wasn't, it was the only thing she had to go on.

Once her new entries were in place and waiting for more thoughts, she lazily began to leaf through the entries from the previous week. It was doubtful that any of it would help her succeed in her patrol, but she had nothing better to do and practicing with her bola would aggravate her wound. Though she did intend to practice, she wisely waited, a paining hand wouldn't be very useful on patrol.

Briana reviewed her notes of Scourge. they were shadowy and vague activities of early last week. From what she read and connected it with what had occurred, Briana wanted to slap herself for not seeing that her five minute encounter with Scourge had indicated that he was scouting, biding his time for his attack.

_But how is he connected with Cheshire?_ Briana wondered, trying to see a fine line that was almost invisible to her. But she was certain, though, that it was no _coincidence_ that Scourge had been at Power Inc. last night.

"_Drat!_" Briana glared at the margin; she'd left a note to herself. In the wake of such events over the previous night, she'd neglected to review her logs and read anything that she'd planned to-do.

In the margin of the paper was the note: "_Shipment, something BIG, docks – eleven P.M., Ship Rat excited/nervous."_

The pages she was reviewing were about Ship Rat's activities of last week. The Ship Rat was as much of a thorn in her side as Scourge, but unlike her knife wielding adversary, Ship Rat was a merchant dealing in illegal or ill gotten goods that anyone in Daleville might want. He was well known for being the biggest supplier of Venom, but he dabbled in weapons dealings and procuring odd items that were in want.

Nightingale let the police deal with Ship Rat, because he was a force to be reckoned with. She mostly eavesdropped and acted as an informant for them leaving them anonymous tips on shipments. _But_ she sometimes personally apprehended him, sometimes there were _things_ that the police couldn't do or weren't able to act upon, such as the mysterious shipment tonight.

Briana sighed, mentally rearranging her patrol schedule, and put in a trip to the Daleville docks. It would surprise her if Ship Rat's newest stock was as big as what she was facing presently, but that didn't mean she wouldn't look into it. She wouldn't look forward to it, though. She never looked forward to going to the docks; Ship Rat's personal body guards were as skilled as Scourge was in combat.

Hopefully, the cane that was being raised would pass and clear out by the end of the week, and then Daleville would return to its usual _unimportant_ self. That meant she'd have to deal with Ship Rat and whatever he had coming, it would probably stick around longer. She could not risk negligence. Daleville had its own problems that were unrelated to what was happening with S.T.A.R. Labs and the Nightingale had to deal with them _all_.

Since Robin had appeared at her high school, she supposed that it would be safe enough to leave the business district unguarded for the night. Those sidekicks could handle themselves.


	23. Rain, Rain, Rain came Down, Down, Down

**Rain, Rain, Rain came Down, Down, Down**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**6:47 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Amanda gnawed on the eraser at the end of her pencil as she stared out the window at the dreary evening. Rain wasn't all too uncommon, but it always made Amanda feel uneasy knowing that a certain bird would have to brave the elements during patrol, especially with the crazy hectic activity going on. At least the temperature wouldn't drop below freezing and turn all the rain into ice, Amanda knew that sometimes when the weather was like <em>that<em> Briana wouldn't venture out unless something catastrophic was happening.

But the weather and Briana's patrol weren't what was occupying her thoughts. No, she was thinking about the surprise party.

Not surprisingly, Jack had been helpful. His friendship with Briana went back before the years that the Nightingale had gallivanted across rooftops chasing homicidal knife throwers. He knew more about the kid behind the cowl than she did.

Thanks to him, she now had a more prepared plan for this coming Saturday. They would have cookie cake, Mountain Dew, and chocolate ice cream.

Though the presents were another matter, Briana was a hard one to get anything for. She hardly ever wanted anything and anything she did want, she worked to get. Her whip was an example of that.

Briana had seen the leather weapon in a pawn shop window and had worked hard to get enough money to buy it.

The option of not getting any presents always existed, but Amanda _refused_ to take it. Briana did so much and got little in return. Though the Nightingale did a lot to help the city, she expected nothing in return for her services, but Amanda believed that she deserved something.

Briana hadn't gotten a present since she was seven, hadn't had an adoption conference with any potential families in years, and only a few friends to speak of. She had every right to do a lot of things, but refused to.

Amanda saw the wear and tear disheartening articles in the _Daleville Harold_ published on a regular basis. But surprisingly it also made the Nightingale's resolve harder.

Anyone who so much as looked at _even_ the regular side of Briana could see that she deserved better, but no one had taken the initiative to break through to the sullen girl and only a few had ever tried.

Amanda was determined to make Briana's fourteenth birthday memorable, _surpassing_ anything that had taken place yet in the six or so years that she'd been in the orphanage. Thus she _had_ to get the right presents. If only her collaboration with Johnny had been more helpful, but at least Jack had been able to shed a little more light on the subject.

Most of what he knew was out of date, but one bit of information stuck in her mind.

Jack had made her swear never to tell another soul – living or dead – before he'd told Amanda who Briana had had a childish crush on. And when he'd told her, it'd taken a lot of self control not to laugh.

Despite knowing that _any_ affinity for said person had dried up long ago, Amanda couldn't help but sport an amused smile at the thought of Briana ever having a crush on Robin, the boy the Nightingale had almost beat.

Though it seemed rather appropriate for Briana to have had some admiration and affections for the Boy Wonder, they did have many similarities. But an older Briana would probably only harbor resentment for the bird boy now due to their encounter. Absolutely no one demands the Nightingale's identity and fights her _and_ then gets away with it.

But outside the hero atmosphere, Amanda knew that there were many possibilities therein that information, especially when she combined the idea of clothes with it. What an inside joke a Robin tee-shirt would make and not only would it be a joke for those in the know of the night, _but_ even for Jack.

_Besides, a Robin tee-shirt would look rather cute on a Nightingale, _she mused, twirling the pencil in her hand for a moment before bringing it back to her teeth.

"Supper time!" someone yelled and the response was immediate. Children of all ages began scurrying down the flights of stairs to the mess hall.

Leisurely, Amanda got up. She separated herself from the usual flow, and dutifully headed to the basement. She wanted to make sure that Briana had heard the announcement.

If Briana was in either the basement or the attic, Amanda had to make sure the bird girl know of the orphanages activities. If Briana ever relocated her efforts to those rooms, it meant she need some quiet _or_ needed to do her chore, as was the case. Usually, Amanda headed up the stairs instead of down; Briana liked that attic far better than she did the basement.

"Hey, Briana, just so you know-"

Amanda was cut off by the sound of golf balls _clinking_ together. She took another careful step down the stairs, and ducked her head down slightly to see Briana unraveling a tangled mess of nylon cord, and green golf balls that formed the Nightingale's bola.

"_Ah ... _Bree, you do know that it's dinner time, don't you?" she questioned, taking the last few steps to the foot of the stairs.

"I do now," the bird girl replied bluntly as she carefully rolled the bola into a small neat clump that she stowed in the pocket of her jeans. "Go on. I'll be up there in a minute."

"Okay, I'll save you a seat."

Amanda quickly went through the line and happily smiled at the fact that the meal was spaghetti.

_What is it? Italian week? _she thought to herself as she took a seat at one of the tables. Briana didn't take long to get to the mess hall.

Greedily, everyone dug into their pasta and tomato sauce, well almost everyone. Briana just childishly played with the pasta noodles with a thoughtful look on her face, a rare event. Obliviously, something was bothering her, but then again what _wasn't_?

Amanda felt heavily concerned about Briana. Although Briana had reassured her that things would be alright, she still couldn't help it.

In all seriousness, Amanda was _extremely_ worried, but she kept that emotion under rasps for Briana's sake, even if she doubted that she needed to.

The Nightingale had fought Robin the Boy Wonder, seen several assassins and superheroes fight, and apprehended Scourge all in _one_ night. Scourge abroad was enough to cause her worry, but something such as what Briana had described at lunch would have caused a freak out if she hadn't promised Briana she wouldn't.

"So, Briana, how was your vacation?" Amanda asked attempting to start a conversation with her best friend.

Briana looked up from her spaghetti. Her emerald eyes were hollow and had a far off look within them.

"_Hmm_?" she uncharacteristically asked, a single noodle of spaghetti comically hanging from her mouth.

"Did you enjoy your visitation?" Amanda emphasized softly. The _less_ people knew about Briana's ditch days, the _better_.

Briana merely shrugged as she slurped the noodle into her mouth. "I got what I wanted and a little more if that's what you mean."

"Where did you go anyway?" Amanda knew that wasn't the typical answer Briana gave when she went to see her parents resting place.

"To see an old family friend. I needed some help on the project," she elaborated.

"_Oh_, so you're planning on doing it?"

"Yeah, I might as well."

"So are you planning anything else?" Amanda asked, apparently what was bothering Briana was bird related.

"Yes, I've got a lot to do, but thankfully it's nothing to do with science." It took Amanda a moment to understand what Briana was implying.

"Okay, that's good, so how's that coming?"

It was indeed a relief to find that Briana was turning her attention away from S.T.A.R. Labs. The sidekicks were fully capable of handling that mess without the Nightingale.

"I have yet to start on it, but I will later this evening, though."

_Well, beggars can't be choosers,_ Amanda thought as she finished off her spaghetti. It wouldn't be long before they drew straws and someone would be chosen to do the dishes.

* * *

><p>"<em>Looks so good<em>," Wally mumbled, all but drooling as they passed a bakery and Artemis rolled her eyes. Though she did agree with him that the pastries in the window did look good, she was getting very annoyed with him. For the past fifteen minutes they'd been in Daleville, the speedster hadn't once stopped complaining about his stomach.

"Will you stop _gripping_? It's _not_ helping us in any way, shape, or form," she snapped at him.

"_What_? I can't help it! I haven't had _dinner_ yet," he retorted.

"Then have some of your snacks!"

She knew that he had a bag or two of chips stashed on him somewhere, the speedster always did.

"I'm saving _those_ for _later_."

"You're _ridiculous_!"

If looks could kill then Wally would be a pile of smoldering embers, but her anger really was only misdirected. She wasn't looking forward to meeting Robin, Zatanna, and Red Arrow at the Daleville Public Library. Meeting with Zatanna and Boy Wonder wouldn't be so bad, but meeting with the auburn archer was not something to look forward to.

Plus she had yet to get some answers to the questions she had. Like why were they looking for the Nightingale and when had the vigilante been there in the first place? More importantly, why had she been _partnered_ with Wally?

It was so obvious that they didn't work well together so why had the Dark Knight paired him with her? Couldn't have the speedster been put on watch duty and given her someone else to work with? Or vice versa?

Wally was too oblivious to even voice those questions to. Why the rain fascinated him as much as it did, Artemis would never know. She didn't like the rain personally, it made the evening damp and cold. It would also make looking for the Nightingale and later guarding S.T.A.R. Labs miserable.

"Where's the library anyway?" Wally asked after several minutes of angry and wet silence.

"I don't know, the S.T.A.R. Labs security guy said it was right in the biggest park in town. That we can't miss it," she said as they turned a corner.

"I guess he was right." Wally shrugged.

Suddenly the buildings ended and a grassy lawn began. The library was right next to a playground. The ornate looking building had sidewalks going off in three directions from the front door and had a beautiful fountain in front of it were water wasn't running at the moment.

Artemis and Wally trudged to the building and gladly went inside. Surprisingly, Wally held the door for her, even before the soda pop bomb Wally had been more civil towards her to some degree. It'd started a little while after the incident in Bialya, but no amount of civil behavior would get the mind numbing annoying speedster out of the prank she had planned.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Rob, how's it going?" Wally quietly greeted, taking a seat beside his best friend. It was an incredible relief to have someone else around besides an angry archer – well, angrier archer.<p>

"Pretty good," the Boy Wonder replied, but Wally could see otherwise. The search for the Nightingale hadn't been as productive as Robin would have liked.

"So where's the other archer?" he asked.

"He didn't want to wait around for you, so he decided to meet us later on."

"So, what are we doing anyway? It's not like this vigilante has a hot line or a signal," Artemis asked.

"Yeah, what are we doing to find this … wasn't her name Nightingale?"

"We've been following each suspect around town for a while now," answered Zatanna. "Aren't we on the third one on your list?"

Robin nodded. "Right, Roy's looking into my second one, so we'll be following the next. Guys meet Aubrey Marshall."

Robin handed them each a paper that looked like a modified version of a Facebook page. It had a picture of the girl whom Robin suspected of being the Nightingale; some information about her such as age, birthday, and other stuff like that. The paper also contained come data on seemingly normal extracurricular activities for a seventeen year old girl.

Wally raised an eyebrow at this subject. A cheerleader and competitive gymnastics participant?

_Does Rob need a girlfriend or what? _he thought to himself instead of guffawing.

"So is there anything specific we're looking for?" Artemis asked bluntly after looking over the paper.

"Yeah, look for any recent wounds on her right hand and a blunt attitude," he replied.

"A wounded right hand? Why look for that?" Wally didn't really know why they'd look for something like that,

"Last night, I was the Nightingale and she had a wounded hand," the Boy Wonder said stiffly.

"You saw her?"

"Yes, now we need to go if we're going to get anything done before we have to go to S.T.A.R. Labs," replied Robin, getting up from where he sat and heading for the door, leaving no more room for further questions.

* * *

><p>Briana looked groggily at her reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at her didn't look like the usual person she saw.<p>

The green eyes looked as lively as they always did, no amount of pain or lack of sleep could change them. The lively shadow was the only ghost of the disposition that had radiated from her so many years ago.

Though aside from the green of the glory that once was, the rest of her reflection told a harrowing and sad tale that evidently was mounting to its peak in a matter of a few days. Tired and hollow those days had been and they still weren't over, she still had much to accomplish.

But to gawk over her appearance hadn't been her reason for coming, nor had it been to preen her feathers. Rather she'd come to prepare them, as a hawker would put it, she was imping her feathers.

Briana quickly surveyed the area. No one was around. Everyone was probably putting the finishing touches on their homework, preparing for bed, or in one unfortunate case, doing the dishes. She had some time to herself, but very little. She'd have to be quick with her work.

She grimaced and bit her lit as she took off the gray fingerless glove that had all _but_ been grafted to her skin. A fresh throe of pain sent agony up her nerves and towards her shoulder. She hadn't taken the glove off all that often, and it had all but stayed there permanently throughout the afternoon.

The glove peeled off nicely once she'd gotten past the stitches.

Briana cleared her mind, and fortified her consciousness against pain as she produced a pair of sharp scissors. Her task now would be less painful than the previous one, but any wrong moves and shots of agony would slither up her arm.

In short order her task was done, her flesh had been liberated of stitches, and a new scar could begin the process of forming.

_There,_ she thought rapidly unfurling and furling her finger to test her work. _Operation complete._

She put the scissors in her pants pockets and wrapped the plastic thread in toilet paper before throwing it in the trash. No one would question a wad of white paper thrown in like that, especially in a girl's restroom.

Quietly she slunk back to her room, her hands deep in her pockets along with her mind deep in thought. Out the window of her room, she could see the sky turning its multiple shades of twilight before altogether going black, though the usual dancing light of the sunset was diffused by the gloomy clouds.

It had begun raining slightly before she had arrived home, and hadn't relented since. She expected it to keep that way for most of the night, it would make her work harder, but it would help her just as much as it hindered her.

She would have horribly cold night of patrol to look forward to, but at the least no one but those who needed to be out would be. The Nightingale would be one of those people and so would Ship Rat, along with his lackeys and underlings.

Thy sky seemed to reflect her gloomy prospect. She didn't want to face off against Ship Rat's body guards and neither would they. They acted just like their namesakes. The Cats never did like water, and how ironic it was that they worked for a man whose business dealt so often with the sea.

_I'll find out what's happening with Ship Rat, and get a much need break from the S.T.A.R. Labs fiasco, _she told herself as she plopped down in her bed. In a fluid motion, she removed her shoes and lay down. She set her wrist watch alarm for her required wake up time as the folds of sleep welcomed her. In a few hours the Nightingale would start her patrol, but between those hours she could get some much deserved rest.


	24. Only Time will tell Who She Is

**Only Time will tell Who She Is**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**8:45 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Roy didn't know why he'd agreed to help investigate the Nightingale, especially now when he had to sit in the pouring rain. He hated sitting around and watching people. It was never all that fun, and Robin's suspect led a very average life. The only thing intriguing about the girl was that she lived in an orphanage.<p>

Why Robin decided to put this girl on the list of possibly being the Nightingale, Roy couldn't guess. She was average, young, and rather poor. Though that fit, considering the state of the red brick building with ivy growing up its back side.

From what he'd witnessed of the Nightingale, he supposed that she would have to have some sort of income or source of money to have the weapons she used or even for her medical supplies that she would probably need after patrol.

The shabby clothed girl whom he could see through the window couldn't be the Nightingale. She just didn't have the money to afford it.

Briana had turned in for the night, and Roy was getting bored, because there was absolutely no point in watching someone sleep and it was also very, _very_ creepy.

_Well, she's definitely not the Nightingale,_ Roy thought to himself looking through his binoculars for the last time. _Even if she was, it won't matter, not after tonight._

Roy slung the satchel containing his binoculars over his shoulder and started down the fire escape. His hotel room was pretty far away and in the nicer part of town next to the highway. He wanted to get there quickly, grabbed a quick dinner either from a nearby café or his leftover pizza, and head out.

* * *

><p>Robin looked into the house in the residential area of Daleville. The rows upon rows of houses looked uniform. The dreary light glistening off the sidewalk reflecting the street lights reinforced that fact.<p>

It also made it hard for Robin, Zatanna, Wally, and Artemis to hide and watch out for any activity of Aubrey Marshall. The house was quiet in the silent neighborhood and Robin now rethought over his suspect list.

Aubrey was sleeping and seemed to have little intentions of waking up for a patrol. Danielle didn't have any form of the wounds that the Nightingale had received and had been opened with her gymnastic talents. For those reasons, he could cross their names out.

With the Briana girl, he could still leave her on the list, but slightly lower, though nonetheless suspicious.

Briana Thomas was too much of a music geek to be aggressive like the Nightingale had been, but he needed to do more research on her. She still had something about her that didn't sit right with him, and he needed to know why.

"I think we need to go soon," Wally said, boredom evident in his tone. "We've got to get the labs at some point."

"Right," he replied, while putting the binoculars into his utility belt. "Let's go."

They signaled for the girls to quit watching the house and they headed for the labs. Zatanna and Artemis had split off into their own group, leaving Robin and Wally behind, which was surprising considering Wally was a speedster.

"You okay, Rob?" Wally asked as the girls powered on ahead. "You don't seem yourself."

Of course, Wally would be the one to notice his slight obsession with finding the Nightingale. His best friend always noticed stuff like that.

"No, we haven't found the Nightingale yet," he replied.

"Yeah, and is there a problem with that?"

"Maybe. I don't know," Robin replied honestly. "She knows something and she's probably not going to stay out of the way any time soon."

"Is she going to help us or something? Because if she's not, _what's_ the point in finding her?" Wally shrugged with a thoughtfully confused look on his face.

"I highly doubt that she'll want to us, not after last night."

"Speaking of which, what happened last night? I mean you disappeared to go look into that alarm and didn't reappear until after the Shadows had attacked."

"I fought the Nightingale after she'd taken down the thief," Robin replied. He knew that the speedster would overreact, but his friend would keep it to himself.

"You what after what?"

Yep, _definitely_ an overreaction.

"I fought the Nightingale after she took down the thief," he calmly repeated.

"Why?"

"I wanted to find out who she was."

"And fighting her was the best way to do that?"

"In retrospect, no, but I suppose it would have worked if the Shadows hadn't of attacked when they did."

Robin did see that it probably wasn't the smartest idea to fight the Nightingale, but if only they'd fought for a little longer then this investigation might not need to take place.

"What would happen if we actually found the Nightingale? I mean she probably really didn't appreciate it when you attacked her, so I don't think she'll take too kindly to us finding her."

"Four superheroes against one vigilante, the odds are in our favor, and I don't think that the Nightingale is expecting us."

"If you say so."

The S.T.A.R. Labs facility was just around the corner, they'd been walking for quite awhile now.

It both surprised and bewildered Robin as to what could possibly be in the building that would be so important to the Shadows. It was hard to believe that they facility in Daleville – merely there for storage – contained something of great importance. But what?

Robin hadn't thought much about the "_what_" – the goal of the Shadows. The Nightingale intrigued him more. Though he ought to find out what the end game was soon, the Shadows were determined to get it, and the team was equally determined to stop them and the Nightingale …..

It always cycled back around to her. She was the wild card in this endeavor. The unknown. Her motives and goals were shrouded and her identity eluded him.

For all that he knew, the Nightingale could be working with the Shadows, but that was very unlikely. It had been her bola that had stopped Cheshire last night, and she'd singlehandedly stopped Cheshire from obtaining their prize Sunday night.

But she did know something, or would know something, very important. He needed her as an ally and her to be an ally he needed leverage.

* * *

><p>"So when are we gonna be able to prank the speedster?" Artemis asked Zatanna as they approached S.T.A.R. Labs. The boys were talking amongst themselves so they were clear to talk about their plan without Wally hearing them.<p>

"I don't know, these missions are throwing us off. Tomorrow maybe, Thursday at the latest," replied the magician. "Did you bring the supplies?"

"Yep, I've got twenty rolls of duck tape just waiting to be used. How about you? How's that spell coming?" Artemis smiled eagerly as she thought of the ingenious plan they'd concocted to humiliate the speedster. It'd be hilarious.

"I've been practicing, but we won't know if it works until we try it."

"Okay, but it oughta be funny every if it doesn't work."

"Yes, it should be, especially with the amount of duck tape you have." Zatanna nodded.

"Of course, but the spiders and glitter would have a very nice effect," Artemis quipped and they both laughed. It would be one memorable prank, indeed.

* * *

><p>"<em>So do you think the Nightingale is going to be invited to join the team?<em>" Megan asked through their telepathic link.

"_I do not know. Batman only instructed Robin, Zatanna, Artemis, and Wally to find her, not give her an invitation. But there is certainly a possibility,_" answered Aqualad.

"_How do we even know we can trust her? I mean no one saw her last night, the only proof that she was here was that broken piece of string and security footage of her fighting Cheshire,_" argued Connor.

"_We do not know if we can, all we know is that she was here and she stopped Cheshire both times,_" stated the Atlantean matter-of-factly.

"_She seems like she's trying to help. Maybe she can be trusted,_" Megan put in.

"_Who knows? Only time will tell. Perhaps she won't join the team, perhaps she will. All we know is what her past actions show and so far we do not know much about her through those. Tonight she may not even show up,_" Aqualad stated. "_Though is she does, her assistance will be appreciated._"

"_I hope she does, having another girl on the team would be nice._" Megan smiled at the thought. Having another girl on the team would even things out.


	25. Nightmares are Unplanned

**Nightmares are Unplanned**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**9:09 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>The dreary evening evolved into night and everything was quiet. The team had taken up their vigil around the labs.<p>

Aqualad had to wonder, though, if something was not right. This was the second time that the team had to guard the building, even if their previous mission there had gone well.

Batman had informed them that a vigilante had helped them during their previous mission and that half the team would investigate the aspiring heroine while evening lasted.

He wondered if the Nightingale was aproblem, if she was the reason for the second mission, especially if Robin and Zatanna had come to Daleville during the day to look for her.

But then again, the Shadows hadn't completed their contract. They hadn't stolen whatever the labs contained, so the possibility of Cheshire or another of the assassins returning remained in the air.

He wondered where Red Arrow was. The archer had been there that night and had helped them immensely. If there was still the possibility of Cheshire returning, then it was all too likely that Red Arrow was around. But where was the question.

It would be likely that he'd decided against remaining invisible on a second vigil of the labs, but Roy had yet to contact them either through their comm. link or link into their telepathic communiqué.

But all the same, it was likely that the archer was somewhere else in the small city. But where?

* * *

><p>"<em>Nah<em> …. No … _don't_ …. _Br-Brian_!"

Briana's eyes shot opened and her breath took up a rapid and rhythmic beat as she realized she was in the safety of her room.

"Just a nightmare. It was _just_ a nightmare," she mumbled softly and rolled over on her side. Amanda was still asleep, that was good. Sometimes she'd sleep talk – well, sleep _scream_ – loud enough to rouse her best friend.

The sharp sound of rain falling against the window was comforting and had a calming effect on her as she stopped hyperventilating. The night was black and none too welcoming, _good_ it'd keep some of the Nightingale's troubles away for now.

She sighed as she looked at her wrist watch. It was at least fifteen minutes before her planned wake up call.

_Get up, _she ordered herself. _Or the night's gonna start without you._

Briana hoisted herself out of bed. Already regretting going out on patrol. The weather hadn't improved in the least, if anything it was coming down more vigorously.

Quietly, she slipped out of her room and further into the sleeping orphanage. By then everyone would be sound asleep, with the exception of those who find it hard to fall asleep or Mr. Mathews who stayed up late to watch some late night program. Luckily, he wasn't in the habit of doing a bed check all that often. Even if he did, the man wouldn't be able to distinguish a sleeping child from a bunch of pillows.

The linens closet was down in the basement, a long trip through the orphanage. With all the risks involved, Briana wouldn't normally chance going there, but on nights when it was raining cats and dogs, she knew that a towel would be necessary when she arrived home from patrol.

She danced her way down each flight of stairs, knowing which boards creaked and which didn't. Before long, she'd retrieved the towel and headed quickly back to upstairs.

She closed the door softly as she reentered her room. She put the towel under her covers and lifted her mattress up. The Nightingale was about to go on patrol.

Briana mused over all the night's possibilities. It had had a lot in store for her on the previous one, so it would likely hold something just as dangerous and unknown to her as the previous one. She hoped that she could handle it, there was no telling if she'd meet her end or return to the orphanage safely this week.

She selected her uniform, bracers, whip, cowl, combat boots, and the pouch of bolas from the locker and set them on the floor beside her bed. She quickly changed out of her casual attire and had her black jeans and combat boots on in short order. Along with the long sleeved black and silver shirt, she would wear one of the few tank tops that she owned. It'd ward off some of the cold water that night.

Briana pulled her shirt and sweater over the tank tops. Her newly repaired gloves slipped onto her hand nicely, melding with her flesh perfectly, neither agitating nor comforting her wound. She secured her bracers on her forearms before she pulled on her cowl.

Only a few seconds passed before she pulled her hair underneath the mask and to check if her work was satisfactory.

Lastly, she strung her belt with her bola pouch around her waist and had her whip fastened to her belt falling just below mid thigh.

She opened the window quietly, and stepped onto the fire escape and shut it without a sound. Amanda would probably wake up anyway, but not in time to see her off.

Silently, she ambled up the fire escape, until she was level with the opposing building. With ease she leaped to the next building, stealthily going along her normal routine.

Oddly, tonight as she flipped and somersaulted over the gaping alley ways, she remembered what had started it all. What occurred the night of her first real crime fighting excursion.

_Weird, tonight it almost the exact duplicate of it. Minus the rain though, _she thought.

_It'd been unplanned, but nightmares always were unplanned for._

_"_Why_? Why it'd have to happen?" Briana sobbed into her legs, but no amount of asking could get her the answer. "Why he'd have to go and sh-shoot them?"_

_The autumn night air blow a cold wind through her black locks, leaving goose bumps on her skin, but it made no difference to her._

_In a few more days, she'd turn ten, and leave single digits behind forever, but no one cared that it was the anniversary of her birth. It was just another unimportant date to everyone else, an unimportant day for the birth of an unimportant, unwanted, and often unwelcome little girl._

_The only people who valued that date were gone, stolen away from her forever, and her hellish dreams wouldn't stop reminding her of that._

_Those accursed dreams plagued her every night, and had done so from the first day she was alone and probably would continue to do so until she breathed her last._

_The instant replay of when she lost everything had driven her onto the fire escape so late at night. A place where no one would see her cry, a place where she could retreat deep into the cowl of Brian's old hoodie one of the few comforts she had._

_The navy blue sweater hold more comfort of her than anything else had for years._

_"Why did we even have to go? If we didn't you'd still be with me." She heaved a sad sigh and wiped her tears on her sleeve. Briana stared out into the cold night as she could do for long hours on end. Maybe she'd end up catching a cold and Mr. Mathews would let her stay home, that wouldn't be so bad._

_She looked out into the street below. Of course, she didn't expect anyone to be out at that time of night. No one did, but it was always nice to watch and let her thought sort themselves out._

_"What the hell, _man_?" someone said rather loudly. Briana heard the sound of a trash can falling over following it._

_She hadn't been paying very much attention to anything a moment ago, so she hadn't noticed that someone had stepped into the alley dragging someone with him._

_"_What's going on?_" She squinted into the shadows below and quietly started to use the fire escape to go down in order to use the fire escape to get a better view._

_Almost directly below the fire escape was a bulky man who looked drunk towering above a younger man of small, lean build. The younger man had on a red vest as he worked at a convent store and coward at the sight of the hulking figure above. The brave tone she'd heard earlier had vanished._

_"What do you want?" he barely managed to whimper out._

_"Give me your cash," the drunkard slurred._

_"I don't got any," replied the younger man._

_"Give me it or I'll – I'll shoot you." The threat resounded in the air and made Briana hope that he hadn't seen her. "Give me or I shoot!"_

_"No, don't, please, I've got a family!" _

_Briana felt her blood boil, an angry fired sprang from the dying embers in her chest. She didn't know what to do, but she could _not_ stay hidden and watch another family go through what she had._

_"_Leave_ him _alone_!" she said, her voice sounded raspy and raw from all her crying._

_The drunkard looked around confused and before Briana fully knew what she was doing she'd gotten under the fire escape and swung herself at him. She landed on top of his back and the drunk fell over hitting his head hitting the asphalt._

_She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the would-be mugger wasn't going to get up. _

_"Who-who are you?" the man asked crab walking further into the alley._

_"Nobody," she replied, shifting from one bare foot to the other awkwardly and wondering how she'd get back into the orphanage._

_"Well, you gotta be _someone_. I mean not everybody can do something like _that_." He got up but stayed two or three yards away from her. "Are you an _angel_?"_

_Briana thought quickly, this guy wouldn't take 'no' for an answer._

_"Ah … No, I'm a nightingale," she supplied, retreating to a nickname that her family had used when she'd gotten sick of adults always referring to her as "_Precious angel_," or something like that._

_"Well, _whoever_ you are, you're a hero," he answered and Briana's eyes widened._

_"Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"_

_"No way am I gonna tell anyone about this. Who's gonna believe me? But you aren't gonna stop, _are_ you?"_

_"Stop what?"_

_"Stop being a hero. I hope you don't. Daleville needs one, that's for sure and I'm sure the Nightingale is just the person for the job."_

_"I guess…."_

* * *

><p>Amanda awoke slowly when she felt cold splotches of a cold liquid hit her face.<p>

"Wha …?" She opened her eyes just in time to see a figure close the window. Amanda shook off her sleep and saw the recognizable figure of the Nightingale climb up the fire escape.

"Darn it!" she mumbled into her pillow and cursed her luck. Briana had already left for the night. She wasn't pleased with that she'd missed the bird girl, Briana had been very solemn earlier in the evening, so who knows what she might be planning on doing?

Amanda hadn't like that. Sometimes she didn't know if Briana would come home safely. At least tonight she was certain that the Nightingale would leave the S.T.A.R. Labs to the proper heroes, but since Briana had taken time out of her school hours to do research on that trouble, Amanda had to wonder what could be more pressing that the Nightingale would voluntarily look into it.

Probably something just as dangerous and as worrying as everything else that had occurred, and Amanda wasn't looking forward to seeing what the byproduct of whatever endeavor that the Nightingale was undertaking tonight could be.

* * *

><p>Travis sighed and looked around again. The alley beside S.T.A.R. Labs hadn't changed at all in the past minute. The trash bin was still in its place, and something invisible was pushing the rain off it. It was probably the Martian girl, whom he'd met last night.<p>

_Why'd I even decide to do this? It's not a wonder we give this kind of job to the rookies, it's boring to the thousandth exponent,_ Travis thought to himself as he took a sip of the black coffee that he'd bought earlier. Normally he'd bring a thermos of hot chocolate courtesy of his sister-in-law, but tonight he'd opted to drink something stronger.

The pelting rain almost lulled his to sleep a couple of times in the past hour. Thankfully, he wasn't one to sleep very well sitting up.

There had only been a few times he'd performed a stake out and they'd mostly been with his detective brother. Those few times had been nothing more than pulling some boring all night-er while looking of the Nightingale, who hadn't even shown up.

It was rather unfortunate for him that this time he didn't have a partner and the sidekicks weren't very talkative.

_Is anything even going to happen?_ he wondered aloud for lack of anything better to do. _Don't we have two of the culprits and haven't they been warded off for quite a while. Besides what in Daleville could they possibly want?_

Travis heaved a bore sigh as other thoughts began to accumulate in his mind. He remembered what the personal cost was because of the villains' endeavors.

He didn't like reprimanding Stephen or anyone for that matter. Every person on the police force was a valued member. They brought something to the table that was unique and helpful. Every officer under his command was needed in Daleville.

Though he'd never tell this to the face of his officers, the Nightingale brought a lot to the table as well. He wished that he'd done more than just let her go after she'd saved Johnny from Scourge. If it happened again, if the chance ever arose to thank her, he probably would for saving both Johnny and Stephen's life.


	26. Way of the Night

**Way of the Night**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**9:43 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Red Arrow scanned the skyline of Daleville looking for the Nightingale. He needed to find her tonight.<p>

The team would take care of S.T.A.R. Labs. The Shadows wouldn't get their end game while they were on watch. Even if the villains got into the labs the team would mage to stop them.

He had decided against going to the labs tonight. It would be better to confront the Nightingale away from the team.

He intended to head her off, bar her path to the labs, but he also had to wonder if she would come this way.

Daleville, though dwarfed in comparison with cities such as Gotham, was still large enough to keep the vigilante preoccupied somewhere else that night, she could go somewhere else, and that worried him.

Suppose she didn't come in his direction, how would he find her? How would he get the information he needed if the one who had that information didn't even appear.

_I'll find her though, I'll find her, _he told himself as he maneuvered his way across the rooftops to an intersection that was a main junction for the town. If one were to follow the street heading south they'd end up in the business section going towards the labs. To the west was the residential and small business part of town. To the north was the less fortunate side of Daleville, where the orphanage, skate park, and only high school in Daleville was. To the east were the sea and the docks, as well as the train depot and a few office buildings.

The Nightingale would be likely to come through that intersection. It was a pivotal spot in Daleville and she'd probably appear there or somewhere around it during her patrol. Then he'd have a conversation with her whether she wanted to or not.

* * *

><p>Robin looked over the labs again frustrated, but he knew his efforts were futile. The Nightingale was nowhere to be seen.<p>

"Has she yet to arrive or is she not coming at all?" he whispered softly aloud to himself in thought. "She's not one to give up _that_ easily, is she?"

He needn't have asked that question. The vigilante he fought was certainly not one to give on anything easily. But could she have turned her attention elsewhere?

Possibly, but his reasoning told him that the matter she would have diverted her vigil to would have to more pressing or related to the events of the two previous nights.

_She does know more about this city than anyone else, so what would draw her attention away from the labs?_

Robin activated his holo computer and began to look over what he'd researched about the Nightingale thus far, looking over the people or group of people she commonly fought.

* * *

><p>Daleville docks were not a place she wanted to be, especially on a blustery rain ridden night. But her duty as Nightingale required that she at the very least look into the shore front activities.<p>

Other areas of her city required her attention and it was doubtful that Ship Rat's endeavors were relevant to Daleville's recent occurrences. But Gale could not neglect to investigate the smuggler, because if she did it would come back to haunt her when the S.T.A.R. Labs fiasco was over.

A distance of about a hundred yards separated the docks from the nearest building, a distance that she'd have to cover to get into the fenced shipping yard, a distance that could allow someone to see her. It was open, grassy, and without trees, hence no cover.

But she didn't expect to be spotted tonight. Most criminals probably expected her to be preoccupied with the labs, so it was unlikely that Ship Rat had posted watchmen.

But Nightingale wouldn't risk that he had deviated from his usual habits and posted some, that was why she'd been sitting on the edge of an office building for the past thirty minutes watching for the movements of guards exchanging positions. So far, she hadn't seen any.

_Come on; let's get this show on the road. I haven't got all night. _

She let herself down using the fire escape. At the third story, she grabbed her whip, leaned forwards as far as she dare, and cast the length of leather into the air where it caught securely on a street lamp. Without a second thought, she released her grip on the rusting metal of the fire escape, and sailed through the air across the street.

Instinctively, she brought her knees to her chest as she felt her whip release its grip on the street light. She somersaulted through the air and landed in a crouch near the hedge beside the road.

_No one's noticed … good, _she thought pausing a minute to wait. Usually, the acrobatic maneuver to get across Atlantic Avenue was when someone noticed her coming. She cringed every time she heard a splash as her combat boots hit the soggy earth as she sprinted to the chain link fence. Hopefully any sounds she made were lost in the howling wind and crashing waves.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, timing her inhale and exhale with the sound of distant waves. It was a trick she'd created to calm her heart rate and eliminate all nerves before attempting something dangerous. Though she doubted that she'd be spotted, she couldn't help being scared. The grassy lawn was a place of uneasy memories for her. It'd been the place where she'd first felt the physical sting of a bullet.

Ship Rat's men didn't have very good aim luckily, and it hadn't improved at all, so the bullet merely grazed her calf, but that didn't make it any less painful. Since that incursion about give or take a year ago, she'd been even more cautious when dealing with armed grunts.

Her heart stopped racing when she crouched down and made her way along the fence to the point where her entry hole was. She knew that if she ever put her mind to it, she could climb over the fence, barbed wire and all, but it'd be too noisy and she'd be easy to spot, so going under was her option.

She crawled under the fence and fled to shadows of the steel cargo crates.

Running along the tops of the crates and leaping the spaces that marked the aisles, she trekked to the more active part of the docks. As a precaution, she always entered from the usually less active end of the docks. The sea front shipyard stretched for miles, almost the length of Daleville. The sea and the shipments that came through Daleville was the town's life blood, so it was only natural that some clots would form, but Nightingale and her efforts were just the remedy for that.

Amidst the night and pounding rain, she carefully came to her destination – Ship Rat's allotted area of the docks. Of course, he could be anywhere in the wide maze of crates, but he liked to stick to a particular area of it.

But a select few among the merchant rodent's employees would see her as she flipped over the aisles, they wouldn't be around to spot her though. The rodent kept them closer to him in order to protect himself, albeit she went slower as she approached his haunting grounds, carelessness could equal death.

She noted every armed guard and which direction they were going, they kept getting more numerous as she got closer to Ship Rat's nest. Despite her obvious lax in patrol that would indicate to any criminal in Daleville to do what you can while the cat's away, there were more guards than usual. Nightingale _didn't_ like that, _not_ in the least.

Not only did it make it harder to get to the warehouse and office building, it told her that the shipment of whatever was coming in would cause her more trouble in the near future then she anticipated or wanted. Ship Rat only amped up security when something big and of importance was coming into port. Recently, Nightingale's definition of 'big' had been redefined. She hoped it was irrelevant to the S.T.A.R. Labs, or else … she didn't know what 'or else' would be and she didn't want to consider it.

_Stay calm, _Nightingale reminded herself as she came within a few aisles of crates. The office or 'nest' as she personally nicknamed it of Ship Rat were practically on the edge of the sea and advantageously next to a crane. But she wouldn't need to get up that high tonight and roof of the offices would serve her purposes just fine.

The office and ware house where Ship Rat nested was one of the oddest buildings in Daleville to say the least. The offices were a three story tall building that had a covered walkway connecting it with the adjacent ware house. For Nightingale though, the walkway acted as a bridge, a perfect perch from there she could sit and listen in on the proceedings below.

Through the obscuring shadows she slunk to her usual post. She was early to whatever rendezvous or business meeting that would take place. Her stomach fluttered nervously at the thought of waiting that long for the Rat's business to occur, but it was completely necessary, despite the risk involved.

Nightingale would have to trust the shadows to conceal her, and her intuition and common sense to stay aware of any danger that reared its head, and her churning thoughts to entertain herself while waiting. She needed to know what Ship Rat had coming and she needed a break from the happenings in Daleville involving big league heroes. She needed something simple to cleanse her palette of the frustration she felt due to all the confusion she couldn't understand.


	27. A Game of Cat and Mouse

**A Game of Cat and Mouse**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**10:53 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Johnny rolled over in his bed again. It was getting late, and the Nightingale had yet to peck at his window. She had yet to come and retrieve her snack and information, and Johnny had also yet to give her his apology.<p>

He wanted to get it over with, and get on with life. There was a lot this week held, both dangers and hopefully pleasant surprises. But the dangers were what scared him the most.

The Nightingale was always liable to be killed, always locked in a daring dance with death that she skillfully performed with a partner of greater caliber. But this week, the song the two danced to had reached an aggressive crescendo and the Nightingale was more than _ever_ interlocked with death. Should her steps falter, or should she fall behind on a beat, she would die.

Johnny had always known this, even if only his subconscious acknowledged it. He'd seen the Nightingale duel with a physical partner only once, but seeing her challenge Scourge was enough to leave an impressionable fear upon him that the Nightingale would die.

He wished she'd show up, but he was starting to accept the fact that she wouldn't. He was starting to accept that the Nightingale had predetermined her mission of night and had taken it up already.

But he desperately wished that she was merely late or had forfeited the time of darkness to the villains who dominated it, for if she died tonight, he would only be able to apologize to the empty air above her grave.

He'd once or twice accompanied Amanda to the cemetery to get Briana when she was in a very dark mood. There he'd seen her talking with thin air as if she were a lunatic. He hadn't voiced that opinion, but merely resigned to wondering how gratifying talking to someone's grave would be and he most certainly did not want to find out.

* * *

><p>If it weren't for the chilling wind constantly blowing cold droplets of water in her face, Nightingale was absolutely certain that she'd have nodded off.<p>

She longed for her eavesdropping portion of her patrol to cease. Flipping and soaring through the frigid air to cover the spaces between buildings and sprinting across rooftops was so much easier than sitting and waiting, even if she knew something would happen.

During most patrols, she had to keep her mind sharp and attentive, but sitting around she easily found herself nodding off. Thankfully, she'd always been a light sleeper, and didn't need all that much to be ready at a moment's notice.

Plus napping on a stake out usually required a better form of concealment shadows on a rooftop just wasn't enough.

Nightingale scanned the courtyard below. She'd been surprised that Ship Rat had come out of his cozy office to brave the elements. He commonly let one or other of his trusted lackeys handle the transactions, but tonight the business rodent had manned up and was braving the elements like everyone else.

She carefully eyed Ship Rat's body guards. Nightingale had engaged the lithe pair before and she had _every_ intention of avoiding any encounters with them. Luckily, the rodent and his entourage seemed solely focused on the incoming shipment as opposed to keeping a wary eye out for her.

The ship carrying the object of importance had arrived and was currently being unloaded. Whatever the shipment was it had arrived in Daleville along with something else – _someone_ else.

The shipment had been simple wooden crate that was being wheeled into Ship Rat's warehouse by some grunts and was accompanied by a large, muscle bound man with blonde hair and a hockey mask to conceal his face. The hockey masked man's arms were bare aside from black sturdy armor.

As the grunts carted the crates into the warehouse the man went up to the suited rat, right under the covered walkway.

She felt her stomach squirm with nervousness. She'd never seen the man before except in a newspaper clipping giving the details as to what happened at the Taipei Peace Summit. This hockey masked man was another of the notable villains that gave the League trouble. He was known only as Sportsmaster.

"Everything is going as planned?" Sportsmaster asked, his voice deep and raspy, but Gale could barely hear it above the wind.

"Yes, but there are some minor stops. The sidekicks are here as you guessed," replied Ship Rat, his voice a slight squeak and with an odd accent that Gale could never place. The Ship Rat was a small man, and usually wore a business suit with a stylish hat, but on nights such as this he'd pulled a trench coat over his small form. He wasn't a physical match for her due to his small size. His mind, though, is what caused Gale to recognize him as a threat. He could sneakily avoid following the rules, and get Venom into Daleville as easily as she could glide through the shadows.

"And your resident hero?" retorted the assassin.

"Our … friend is dealing with her, but as I told you before she is harder to handle," the rodent answered.

_Okay, so _you _think I'm a threat. Why?_ Nightingale thought, listening earnestly to the interesting conversation.

"He couldn't find a simple vigilante?"

"It's not about finding the girl, it's about … oh, how would one put this? … The girl could come to you, but it's about _how_ you react to her that makes it difficult," Ship Rat replied.

"So the biggest threat to the Nightingale can't even _kill_ her? _Pathetic_!" responded Sportsmaster, distain evident in his voice.

"Not pathetic, sir, but merely difficult. She's elusive, but not immortal and still extremely difficult to handle. Scourge is just the same, only less sane. I don't even know why you brought that filth into this business arrangement."

Nightingale bit her lip. She didn't like the sound of that. Ship Rat was implying that Scourge was working _with_ them. That sounded very unlike him, Scourge was a one demon crew. If he had allied himself with Ship Rat or any other notable criminal in Daleville, albeit even _temporary_, she could only worry more. Scourge never did something like that, so she was forced to ask: what would he gain from this?

A heavy thud alerted her to presence behind her. Nightingale's hand slide up her thigh where it had been resting on her knee and to her whip handle as she eyed the two conversing again. Silently, she cursed herself for not paying more attention.

Ship Rat also had a certain quality about him that allowed him to manipulate and employ those who could easily overpower him, whose abilities made them an equal in battle to Scourge. At least they were more _'sane'_ as Ship Rat put it. His body guards didn't think for themselves when it came to committing crimes, but they thought for themselves when it came to a fight.

Nightingale tensed as she anticipated the duos' movements. They wouldn't expect her to know of their surprise attack.

_Wait for it, _she commanded herself. _Wait for it_ … NOW_!_

She spun around, rising to her full height however small it may be, and with her whip _cracking_. Undoubtedly, this would get the attention of everyone, but hopefully none of Ship Rat's underlings would be stupid enough to start firing rounds at the Nightingale and her adversaries, and they probably wouldn't in consideration of who her adversaries were.

Scourge had given himself a pretty intimidating name, she'd chosen one after a bird whose song was nocturnal, and the two body guards of Ship Rat had named themselves after cats.

Tom and Allie Cat were Ship Rat's body guards ironically, but effectively. Allie and Tom Cat were a brother and sister duo, by Gale's estimate they were twenty-four and twenty-five years old and both were excellent in combat, though they had different style from one another.

Tom Cat had a moderate build, that wasn't too wide or too slender for his frame. He had strength in his limbs that could send her tumbling to the ground with a single well aimed kick. Despite his muscles, Tom carried himself with an elegant gait, and his lithe agility forced Gale to push herself to the limit.

He wore dress pants that he tucked into his combat boots at mid calf. The faux leather of his hooded jacket glistened in the rain. In Tom's hands was his weapon of choice – Escrima sticks. Because of that particular weapon, she often avoided close combat against him unless she'd disarmed him first.

Standing to Gale's left was Allie Cat, Tom's younger sister. She complemented his style in an inventive way. Her build was slender and her long dark brown hair was held up in a high pony tail with her face framed by her bangs.

Though her build was slender and narrow, it only made her more agile than her brother. But acrobatics was not her forte nor did she use it that often. Her fighting style was more based off street fighting, hence her weapon of choice was brass knuckles. An unfair advantage by far, but when was a cat fight ever fair?

She wore almost a feminized version of her brother's clothing. Knee high combat boots were her shoes, with black dress pants and a leather jacket. But her jacket was a quilted leather moto version with a band collar instead of a hood.

The duo was smiling eagerly at her. Obviously they had been looking forward to a confrontation for a while.

"What's new, putty _tats_?" Nightingale joked, eyeing the pair, trying to decide which one would start the fight first or if both would advance simultaneously.

"You picked the wrong night to come here, Nightingale," Allie addressed her. She was trying to bait Nightingale so her brother could attack, but they'd used that tactic one too many times for the bird girl not to see it.

"_Really_?" she coyly replied. "I believe it is actually the perfect night, what with the drenching rain and all."

A smirk occupied her face. The Cats thought she'd fallen for the bait, Tom assumed that her attention was on his sister and attacked. The leather coated villain leaped at her, but she surprised him with a trick.

She leaped as high as she could into the air, brought her knees to her chest, and rotated her body mid air. Plummeting down, she landed in a tense couch, prepared for Allie's pounce.

The older girl swung at her jaw with a right hook, but Gale stepped gracefully around the charging feline, putting the Cats and the docks in general back in her line of sight.

Tom had lithely gotten back on the top of the covered walk way, his anger evident on his scowling face. Allie had a feral smirk on her own face. The brother and sister duo were going to try to drive her from the narrow platform of steel they were on.

Gale wouldn't mind letting them on a regular occasion, but another particular and evil figure had arrived in Daleville. Though she didn't know that much about Sportsmaster, she instinctively didn't want to lose sight of him while she was preoccupied with the Cats.

_I've_ definitely _got problems,_ she thought as Tom twirled the weapon baton in his hand and changed, she'd angered him, and while that sometimes helped her plight, Tom wasn't one to let his rage blind him. Allie was the one who was fueled by emotions, not Tom. He'd channel that anger into a calm demeanor and focused punches.

Nightingale stepped back into a firm stance as she ducked under Tom's attack. Before he could bring his other Escrima stick in for its designated target, she swung for his stomach. A low blow, but she couldn't exactly let a hard wood stick hit her ribs with an angry energy.

Tom doubled over slightly and without hesitation Nightingale followed it up with a front kick to his torso. Their exchange of blows was swift, it had to be. Tom and Allie Cat always attacked in intervals, one after the others.

They always attacked at intervals, coming from opposite sides. If they continued to attack, they'd work together. It felt so much like a dance, a weird three way tango that she usually tripped over.

Right on schedule, Allie leaped-frogged over her brother and tackled Gale.

"Aw, _crap_!" She felt her heart leap from her rib cage to her mouth as thin air encompassed her and Allie.

Panicked instinct overwrote any other thought. Somehow she broke free of Allie's grip and flung her whip into the air where it caught on the corner of the office building. Allie went flying to the ground where she rolled her body around and landed on her feet while Gale felt her body yanked suddenly out of the thralls of gravity.

She braced herself against the office building as she hit it. Gale quickly found a hand hold, let the tension off her whip, and it let of the corner. With grace she simultaneously let go of the building and pushed herself into the air.

The distance between the building and the crate was covered in a single flip and Nightingale smirked at the two Cats on the ground where they'd regrouped, and _cracked_ her whip as an unspoken challenge, an invitation to continue the fight.

Allie grinned and accepted the invitation. Her brother followed her quickly as they swiftly got to the top of the crates. Gale took the moment's advantage to put some distance between her and the Cats. She had her whip at the ready, her only weapon against these two. The three bolas in her pouch burned in her mind and she _eagerly_ wanted to toss two of the restraining weapons at her advisories. She knew that there would be a time and place for that, but it wasn't here. Her whip would have to suffice for now.

Allie was the first one up and therefore the first to start attacking Nightingale.

"You _really_ have no idea as to what you're getting yourself into, Tweedy Bird," taunted Allie advancing swiftly.

"I know that I'm going to stop you and your rodent boss," she countered with both her words and whip. She hated it when Allie referred to her as 'Tweedy Bird,' it really got on her nerves. Her whip kept Allie from getting close enough to punch.

"You _have_ no clue as to how hard _that's_ gonna be, Tweedy," Allie hissed.

_What an interesting choice of words? _Nightingale thought. _I wonder if she knows something important._

Tom charged and leaped over his sister, but that was the closest that Gale would let him get.

She _snapped_ her whip at his hands as hard as she could. The aim was to cause Tom release his Escrima stick. Even attacks with one weapon would help her and expedite the fight.

Unfortunately, instead of leaving a painful welt on his hand, her leather weapon furled around Tom's forearm.

"_Drat_!" she mumbled softly as Tom smiled wolfishly. He _yanked_ his arm violently and Gale stumbled forward tripping over her own two feet like a clumsy amateur.

She cursed her luck as she regained her senses quickly. The tug-of-war had resulted in her rolling over on her back, her whip out of her hands, and Allie pouncing on her. Nightingale rolled to the side within seconds and in the same movement she was on her feet again.

Allie's attack may have missed, but Tom made up for it. His Escrima sticks hit her _once_, _twice_, and a _third_ time, each motion sent her spinning and back to the ground.

"Ship Rat wants _you_ dead, Nightingale," said Tom, Gale could hear the cruel smile in his voice from where she was on her hands and knees, trying to regain her breath. She cursed the cold ran that kept her from letting unconsciousness slip into her mind, a reprieve that she wanted _desperately_. She could feel a warm liquid drip down her lips, mixing with the icy rain water. She knew what it was. Her nose was bleeding. "And I think _we're_ gonna be _just_ the ones to do it."

"I highly doubt _that_," Gale rebelliously answered. She grabbed her whip again, and _lashed_ out at the Cats. Tom's attack had sent her spinning down to her whip.

Tom backpedaled out of range of her whip. Allie lithely leaped forward as her whip receded. Nightingale punched first, deciding against letting the duo force her into retreat. She'd retreat willingly as soon as she'd put the two in some sort of pain.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Ship Rat, Sportsmaster, and company had moved to get a better view of the Cat fight. As she punched Allie while avoiding Tom's Escrima stick yet again, she made mental note of Sportsmaster. She didn't like him and though he was not in the fight directly; she was still wary of him. If he wanted her dead, she knew that it probably would get accomplished one way or another. If the Cats failed, what was to stop the assassin from picking up where they left off?

Though he worried her, it wouldn't never amount to the same fear that she had as she noted Ship Rat's underlings had their guns trained on her while she fought the Cats.

_I've got to get out of here,_ Gale thought. _Someone else has to know about this and I'm no good to anyone _dead_._

Gale back flipped out of range of Tom's and Allie's attacks, secured her whip around her waist, and ran to the edge of the crates where the aisle started before flipping into the air. She landed on another crate, glanced over her shoulder at Tom and Allie. Undoubtedly, they'd follow her and it'd be a game of cat and mouse before she could ditch them and escape the docks.

_This _isn't _going to go well at all._ She glared daggers at a third person who'd joined the Cats on the crates. Sportsmaster had decided to join in the fray.

Nightingale didn't wait for any of the villains to join her on her crate. She sprinted towards the next aisle; there was no way she could survive an encounter with another assassin _and_ two Cats hell-bent on killing her. Putting distance between her and them was her only option.

Aisle after aisle passed, but she still hadn't shaken them. She could still hear the thud and splashing of Tom, Allie, and Sportsmaster.

"Holy _crap_!"

She dove into an aisle, not caring if guards were there. A moment ago, Nightingale had chanced a glance over her shoulder and seen Sportsmaster preparing to throw a spear at her.

She rolled back on her feet and sprinted around a corner, maybe this was exactly what she needed to get her pursuers off her tail feathers.

Her breath was shallow and rapid as she pressed her body against a crate. She took full advantage of her respite that she had, however long or short it would be.

_You've got to stay calm. They want to kill you, but stay calm. You're _dead _if you don't stay calm,_ she thought rapidly. Nightingale grimaced as she heard two thuds accompanied by splashing. Her attempt hadn't worked, it probably only made things worse. Three against one in a tight space were not odds that were in her favor. _Bolas_ are _now an option._

Her hands went to her whip and the other to her bola pouch. Allie was her target. The female Cat was not as acrobatically inclined as her brother, so getting her would be so much easier than Tom or Sportsmaster.

"Come out, Nightingale," called Sportsmaster. "There's no point in hiding."

Nightingale looked around her. She may not know Sportsmaster's tactics, but she did know that some taunt like that may or may not indicate someone sneaking up on her. Tom and Allie used a strategy like that, so it would make sense that it'd be used again.

"_Mrrow_!" Allie gave her animalistic battle cry as she leaped off the crates at her, but Nightingale reacted quicker. Her bola wrapped around Allie's body, throwing off her pounce. It restrained her arms to her sides and she plummeted to the ground.

Nightingale momentarily wondered if Allie was okay, she never liked doing something like that because she didn't want to be responsible for maiming her opponents. But it really didn't matter; the odds still weren't in her favor.

She back flipped again putting more space between her and her adversaries as they rounded the corner. Tom looked very, _very_ mad when he saw his sister on the ground, probably out for the count. Sportsmaster looked ambiguous of emotion, unaffected by the loss of an ally.

"You're talented for a hero without any proper training," complimented Sportsmaster, advancing slowly in a nonthreatening way. But Nightingale eyed him suspiciously, retreating a little ways, preparing to run. If Robin could throw a shuriken at her without her seeing it happen, then she was fearful of what someone like him was capable of. "But _no one_ likes you, not even your fellow heroes like you."

"Yeah, I get that reaction a lot, I'm _used_ to it."

"No, you're not. You wouldn't work as hard as you do if they merely gave you the respect you deserve."

Nightingale merely glared at him. "So what? I'm good at what I do and my talents shouldn't be wasted, and I've never looked for the approval of anyone else."

She didn't like this, but engaging Sportsmaster in conversation might be helpful. Though she kept her eye on Tom, if this was a way to distract her she wouldn't allow it.

"A good character trait in our line of business. You're quite talented, especially if you've fought … what did you call him? …. Ding-Bat? That was quite _impressive_. You took every advantage, including manipulating your opponent's emotions to be in your favor.

"My employers," he continued as Gale studied him she instinctively knew that this was going in a direction she didn't like, "have had their eyes on your futile efforts for a while and they're _extremely_ impressed."

"And they shouldn't have been. I'm not patronized by their like or dislike of me," she responded coolly, slowly backing away from the villains. The pelting rain and his eerie words weren't helping her need.

"You should be. It's not easy to get a complement like that. You'd be dead if they weren't impressed with you. I've been told to offer you a chance to get real training, real respect," he growled.

"And join scum like you? No thanks! Your offer's not appreciated here." Nightingale spat out those words disdainfully. Never in a million years would she ever consider becoming what she fought against.

"What difference is there between you and me? The ones who should be your allies are hunting you down. To them you're just another villain, like the rest of us. They don't see the difference between you and me.

"No matter what you do you'll _always_ be a villain, _never_ enough to amount to a hero. You'll be just like the rest of us.

"_So_ what's the point in trying to prove them wrong when those hard headed heroes will always see you see you as scum?" She could practically hear the smirk that he undoubtedly wore. His argument did have a point, but she could care less about what the other heroes thought of her when she was in a situation like this.

"The point is that I'm scum with integrity and that makes _all_ the difference!"

"Then you're _dead,_ little hero!" That was Tom speaking, his emotions rippled through his voice. He was dangerously angry, probably because of what she'd done to his sister.

He launched himself over Sportsmaster. This was the first time that she'd seen him blinded by his anger, and it _scared_ her, but she could take advantage of it. Although that wasn't what she wanted to do this time, getting out of there was her main priority.

Sprinting, she ran down the aisle she'd been slowly edging her way towards. She knew that Sportsmaster and Tom would pursue her – one with vengeance in mind and the other was probably going to kill her in the most painful ways possible.

The pelting rain stole one of her biggest allies from her – her hearing. She wished that the pounding of water droplets against the metal of the crates would cease, she wouldn't be able to hear it if Sportsmaster threw another spear or something.

Her blood pounding in her eats was bad enough, but the rain amplified it. It dulled her senses; put her on more of an edge. Made her want to run faster and disappear into the safety of the shadows.

Either Tom was faster than Sportsmaster or the senior villain wanted to let Tom strangle her, because the Cat caught up with her quickly.

She ducked under the sweep of his stick as she skidded to a stop. Thankfully, Tom wasn't as quick as she was so she tripped him with her sturdy combat boot.

Taking up her sprint again, she leaped over Tom's body, and rolled back up on her feet.

Tom would be a minute before he would pursue, but their little scuffle allowed Sportsmaster to catch up.

She inhaled sharply, but kept running as a spear grazed her shoulder and kept going towards two crates stacked upon one another – where it exploded.

"_Crap_!" The exploding spear not only ignited whatever those crates contained, but sent an opposing set tumbling – cutting off her clear line of escape.

But the fire didn't deter her, she only slid under the small spaces that had been formed by the fallen crates as if her were sliding for home plate.

If it were a less stormy night, Gale would have been a fried bird. Her drenched clothes were what saved her life; they kept the fire from touching her.

Escape was hers. Sportsmaster and Tom were too big to fit through the crevice and the flames hinder them from leaping over it.


	28. Which Flies Faster: Arrow or Bird?

**Which Flies Faster: Arrow or Bird?**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**11: 59 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Nightingale threw her body into a pained back flip when she felt her whip release its hold, her momentum sent her sailing to the height she needed. Gracelessly, she landed on the building's roof and nearly fell to her knees from exhaustion. She was tired, and cold. She could feel the first indications of a cold appearing, but she couldn't give into the pain or exhaustion just yet.<p>

She couldn't give in, because Daleville still needed her. Though, now it would not only need her. The situation was getting out of hand and the plot unfolding was far too thick for her to handle alone. Whatever was happening needed to come to the attention of the big guns, the Justice League was needed to take care of it.

Gale knew this and while she didn't want to let someone else take over the investigation that she'd begun, she knew it was necessary. Before the sun rose, Nightingale would find the sidekicks and let them know of the development. Even if it meant giving up her identity to get them to believe and listen to her, though if she went to someone other than the Ding-Bat, Gale might avoid that.

But she still had several hours before the dawn, so she could rest, regain her composure and strength. Nightingale wondered just how long that would take. With her adrenaline levels slowly declining, Gale could feel wounds spring up that she had once been oblivious to.

Her bloody shoulder didn't seem to be scabbing over, but instead was mixing with the icy rain water that was pouring down. She wished she had some dry medical gauze to stop the bleeding. The rain dripping into her wound and mixing with her worm blood formed a chilling elixir that was turning her core cold.

She dug around in her pocket, deciding to make the most of the soaked medical supplies that she had. The soggy gauze probably wouldn't do much, but at least it might postpone the bleeding from getting too bad. She hoped that it wasn't as bad as if felt, or else who knows what she might have to do to patch herself up. It was also made her wonder what she was going to do to patch up her uniform.

Gale tied the fabric around her shoulder tightly and winced in pain as she secured it with a knot. It would prolong the bleeding. She'd inspect it further when her patrol ended, but for now … for now she needed to make a plan of action, or better yet take some sort of action. Sadly she didn't know what though.

"The sidekicks should be able to help me, but how am I supposed to prove that I did see Sportsmaster? My wound might just do that, but I could've gotten that anywhere it's not anything too distinct," she thought, trying to work out a solution to her dilemma when from behind her she heard a decisive _twang_! But a few seconds later, an arrow with red fletching imbedded itself into the ground a foot or two away from her.

A new jolt of adrenaline jumped into her veins as she spun around crouched in a ready position for an attack.

"That was a warning shot, I don't miss," a gruff voice intoned and Nightingale believed him. Standing with another arrow on a taunt string was Speedy, the archer, the protégé of Green Arrow.

Gale didn't allow herself any awestruck moment, the archer had an arrow aimed at her torso, and decidedly she chose not to anger or agitate him, she didn't want a fight right then. Besides it looked like someone had already done just that to the archer.

"I don't want to fight you, Speedy," Nightingale said cautiously, but she made no move to come out of her fight ready stance.

She saw the hero tense at her words, but she saw no reason for that. Silently, Gale prayed that this wouldn't end in an aggressive fight, but prepared for the worst anyway.

"First off, I don't go by 'Speedy' anymore, it's Red Arrow now," he growled, unwittingly giving Gale some verbal ammunition to work with if push came to shove. "Secondly, if you don't want to fight, what are you still doing in a Horse stance?"

"Let's just say that I've met one of your associates and I don't want to be caught off guard, but obviously, you aren't here to talk to me or is it standard procedure to have a weapon pointed at an ally?" she retorted in a somewhat joking manner, but she did want to know why an arrow was pointed at her.

"If you're an ally, you'll tell me what I want to know about Cheshire," he responded in a colder tone than the rain, he neither lowered his bow nor made any friendly gestures; Gale was beginning to regret deciding to rest where she had.

"This can only mean trouble," she thought dejectedly and replied, "And what, exactly, is it that you want to know about Cheshire?"

She knew that that probably wasn't the best wording to use. It might elude that she knew something when she really only knew common knowledge about the cat assassin, but she decided to humor the archer.

"Everything that you know."

"This isn't much. In fact, you probably know more about her than I do, seeing as I don't get out of Daleville very much." She could fell the air thicken with frustration as she continued, "I know that she is more than a thief and that whatever is happening here is far from over and far more dangerous than either of us may have guessed."

Nightingale stopped as Red Arrow pulled the string further back, she wondered if he was going to break his bow out of frustration.

"Start talking about Cheshire or I let this go," he threatened.

"Unless you want a synopsis or what I read in newspaper and internet articles, I have nothing more to say on that point. You're wasting my time with this," she snapped. She doubted that he was going to listen to her after their previous conversation and if he wasn't going to listen than she needed to find someone who would.

Nightingale slowly turned to leave, but Red Arrow wasn't about to let her go. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him release his arrow. Instantly, she knew she only had a few seconds to react before the projectile hit her, fortunately that was all the time she needed. Instantaneously, she back flipped and preformed the same evasive maneuver that had gotten her to her whip during her fight with Boy Blunder the night before.

She hardly touched the ground as she pushed herself further away from the archer and landed in a tense couch. She wasn't too happy about being shot at for no particular reason, but she was even less thrilled by the thought of facing a hero of greater caliber and different fighting style than her.

"What was that for?" Nightingale demanded with a cold anger to her voice. One arrow could be ignored, a second could be overlooked, but if Red Arrow really did want a fight, Nightingale was stuck fighting him whether she desired it or not.

"You know something about Cheshire, tell me now!" he snapped. Another arrow was on his bow string and aimed at her.

"This is going to end _well_," she mumbled sarcastically under her breath as she began to devise a plan of action, attack, and escape.

* * *

><p>Red Arrow knew that there was something that the Nightingale wasn't telling him. She was a wild card in this game and she could – probably <em>did<em> – know something more about what was going on.

He just needed to get her to tell him what that was, and he would use all the influence he had to get her to talk.

"If you want to know more than I do try a hero data base or something, because I've only got newspapers," she scoffed. "I've told you all I know, so unless you want to talk about his in a non-violent environment than I don't have any more to say to _you_."

"Wrong answer." He released his arrow, but it never hit its mark. From her crouch, the Nightingale leapt into the air. Tumbling through the rain ridden air, she landed directly in front of him.

He was taken aback and stunned by this. He hadn't expected an amateur to do that, and it cost him.

Using the element of his surprise and the close proximity to him, she lashed out at him with a vigorous front kick that set him off balance, causing him to step backward to regain it.

"Oh, great, I'm losing her," he mumbled to himself as he regained his balance. After knocking him off balance, the Nightingale had fled.

She'd sprinted across the rooftops and leapt over the gaps between the buildings, trying to get away from him, but he was determined not to let her get away from him that easily.

He nocked another arrow to the string and released it as he sprinted after her. If he could just hit her once, then he'd have her. But she seemed to have prior experience dodging projectiles from behind. She bobbed and weave erratically as she ran, making it impossible for him to predict where she would be next. If she'd been running in even a semi-straight line, than he could have fired an arrow where she would be by the time the arrow reached her, but her random movement prohibited that.

Red Arrow chased Nightingale across rooftop after rooftop. It was pretty easy for both of them, but the Nightingale had an easier time then him, probably because she knew the streets better than him. The street had a somewhat equal level for the roofs, though some buildings were taller than others and others smaller than the rest, except for one. The building at the end of the street, a bakery if Red Arrow recalled, was taller than the rest by about a story or two.

"I've got you now," he thought as they approached it. The bystreet between the buildings that lined the street adjacent to the one they were running along was too wide for either hero to vault over and unless the Nightingale had a grappling gun or superpowers, then she was trapped. She'd be cornered without anywhere to go and he'd get the information he wanted.

* * *

><p>Nightingale could hear her pulse pounding in her ears as she dove onto the next rooftop. Tanner's Bakery was up ahead, but she had no intention of trying to get up to the height directly.<p>

She ran towards the building adjacent to the bakery and grabbed her whip as she approached the edge. Without hesitation, she vaulted into the gap between the buildings and snapped her whip into the air where it secured itself onto the corner of the bakery.

Nightingale felt the air and rain encompass her as she swung across the several foot gap, but she didn't feel the exhilaration, the heart in your throat felling she usually got when she had only her whip keeping gravity at bay. She half expected an arrow to hit her or sever her whip in mid-arc and send her falling from a bone breaking height. She had no idea what to expect from Red Arrow. She didn't know what his limitations were.

A wave of relief washed over her as she landed on the rooftop she'd intended to. But it was short lived, it had to be.

Chancing a glance back, she saw that Red Arrow was still in pursuit, but had fallen behind for whatever reason. It was just the advantage she needed.

Gale ran towards the middle of the rooftop, and veered to her right when she reached it. The bakery's fire escape was her ticket up.

She jumped out to it and started climbing up until she had positioned her body in the posture needed.

In a leap-grab-pull rhythm, she started up to the roof.

* * *

><p>"The Nightingale's not a bird, she's a damn squirrel," Red Arrow thought as he fired another arrow which the Nightingale unknowingly avoided by leaping upwards. In a matter of moments, she was on the roof and out of sight. "Great, I'm gonna lose her."<p>

He shot an arrow at the bakery and grappled up. He hoped to see the Nightingale leaping off the side or disappearing into the shadows, but there was nothing. Only what one would normally see on a rooftop was there.

Off center of the roof was a stairwell access that led to the innards of the building, and vice versa. Not too far away from it was an air conditioning unit.

"Shit!" he swore as she surveyed the shadows, but found no visible signs that the bird girl had been there. "I lost the damn amateur!"

An abrupt displacement of shadows out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned to face whatever had moved, but he was a little too late to react.

He heard a _crack_, and felt his bow yanked out of his hand.

* * *

><p>Nightingale didn't have any choice, but to disarm Red Arrow. She had to do something to get her to leave her alone. His pursuit was becoming relentless and she had no other option, but to confront him.<p>

Disarming him would undoubtedly anger the auburn archer, but it'd even the playing field. It'd give her a chance of escape, and maybe even a chance to tell him what had happened.

With her whip, she sent his bow to the opposite side of the roof. She could have sent it off the side of the bakery, but if his hair color matched his temperament, than that was the last thing Gale wanted to do.

"I don't want to fight you, Red Arrow," she repeated. Even if she didn't like being called an amateur and damned in the same sentence, she'd let it go if it meant avoiding further conflict with Red Arrow.

"And what if I do?" he replied in a growl. Disarming him hadn't been the wisest move at all.

"Then all blame lies on your shoulders," she intoned her reply. She sincerely felt that if something horrible came from fighting Red Arrow she'd blame it all on him.

* * *

><p>Red arrow lunged at Nightingale. If the only way or interrogating her was to subdue her then so be it, and he'd enjoy this for good measure. Not many had ever disarmed him and she was going to pay for that.<p>

The Nightingale was subpar to him, and he was sure that he could easily win. It wouldn't take long to get her to talk either. Or so he thought.

What happened next caught him off guard and made him rethink all the assumptions he'd made about the Nightingale.

In a bowing motion she ducked under his swinging punch, and stepped back at the same time. He hadn't expected that maneuver and it caught him off guard. He didn't fully know how it happened, but next thing his mind registered was a solid fist colliding with his jaw and another with his torso.

"Lucky shot, Nightingale," he said as he regained his composure. She'd stepped back into a ready stance a yard or two away from him. "But beginners luck only lasts so long."

* * *

><p>"I don't need beginner's luck," she responded. Her quick attack succeeded, but she doubted that it would work a second time. Now, Red Arrow would definitely be more wary of her.<p>

He was more skilled than her, but now that he was paying more attention to her movements the stakes were higher. He'd be on the lookout for any of her attempts to misguide him into thinking that she was attacking one way only to come in at a different point.

Red Arrow made no reply as he reengaged her. He wasn't testing her like Robin had the previous night, but merely attacking. He had no intention of going easy on her; she could see that clearly as he swung at her again.

She backed away, but only just out of his range. If he wanted a fight, a fight he'd get.

"Just focus, and stay calm, and get out of this quickly. I don't need anything more than a sparring match," she told herself as she felt a cold tremor run up her spin. She could feel her cold get worse the longer she was out in the rain. She certainly didn't need to get sick at this point in the week, it would help no one.

Her shoulder was also causing her trouble. Punching Arrow was agitating it worse than the soggy bandage. She wasn't enjoying this at all.

Gale ducked under another sweeping punch and delivered another of her upper cuts to his torso. But this time it was followed up with a sweeping kick in an attempt to get him off his footing.

Her leg swept through rainy air when she finished the kick. Red Arrow had leapt back and hand crouched down.

In the space of the spare seconds she had, Nightingale prepare for Red Arrow to tackle her. His body had tensed and he did intend to tackle her,

Just barely quick enough, Nightingale danced around him stepping out of his path and back around him. Her maneuver irritated the archer, just as she knew it would

* * *

><p>"Admittedly," Red Arrow thought as he regained his balance and turned to face the Nightingale again, "she's good, but not good enough. She's tiring and that's perfect."<p>

He took a moment to analyze his opponent, reviewing the fight thus far. She had dodged his attack with her simple moves, but she hadn't blocked much nor did she attack as much as he knew she could. That was her weakness; she relied too much upon dodging. The other chink in her armor lay on her left shoulder. He'd seen her bandage it up and it seemed to be doing very little good for her now when it was soggy. It also appeared to pain her; she wasn't relying on it much.

With a strategy in mind, Red Arrow reengaged the Nightingale.

He came at her much like he had before, charging at her, and ready to strike, but just as she side stepped out of his path, he diverted his gained momentum into a sweeping kick and his feint served its purpose. She'd been unable to avoid having her feet swept out from under her and she landed on her butt with a groan.

* * *

><p>"This isn't going well <em>period<em>." Nightingale realized as she landed on her tail feathers. "Nix fighting him, I've got to get out of here."

She got up from her sitting position as swiftly as she could. There was no way she would let this hero catch her and demand information from her that she didn't have. As Nightingale, she'd talk to people on her terms not the other way around.

"Whip's not an option just yet, it'd only encourage him to retrieve his bow, but close combat could be disastrous," she analyzed as she blocked a punch and delivered a front kick to Red Arrow's chest. "Wonder how well trick plays would work."

Normally after delivering a blow such as that she'd back flip out of range, but this time she charged and flipped over him. Landing in a crouch, and taking advantage of Red Arrow's brief moment of shock, she attempted another sweep kick returning the attack that he'd used on her.

Surprisingly, it worked. With one swift and fluid monition, Gale knocked his feet out from under him. Once her leg had completed its arc, she used it to led her into a cartwheel away from the fallen hero and out of his attack range.

"Do you want to talk now?" She decided to try her luck, if he didn't want to discuss what she'd seen earlier then she was close enough to the edge of the roof to escape and flee the fight. She knew that it would be necessary to talk with one or other of the heroes occupying Daleville as soon as possible, but she was getting tired and she wouldn't mind turning in early.

Red Arrow opened his mouth to answer, but someone else filled his words.

"Red Arrow's not much of a talker, but under the right circumstances I am."

**I honestly hope you like this, I wasn't too sure about this chapter, but trust me I'll make it up in the next. The plot is thickening up a whole lot right now.**

**Thanks for all your review, I can't believe that we're almost to one hundred. Let's see if we can get there shall we.**

**Reasons to keep reading this: I'm not gonna tell anyone who the unknown speaker is, you'll just have to find out. Hehehe!**

**Specail thanks to Blue-Kitsune-13 and X who made suggestions or said they would make suggestions in the near future concerning a cover picture.**

**Ah ... X, I couldn't get to the website you suggested. Is there a key phrase that I could search on Google or something and find this picture. I would really like to see your suggestion. So please, give me some sort of step by step intructions to find it. It's really nice to have a reviewer like you and I don't want to not find it.**

**~Rayner out**


	29. They Fall in Line

**They Fall in Line**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**12:39 A.M EDT**

* * *

><p>Something landed forcefully on Nightingale's back and she went tumbling across the roof. Exhaustion overwhelmed her senses as her body skidded to a halt. Pure darkness flooded her vision and pain paralyzed her as she slipped unwillingly into the fold of unconsciousness.<p>

_Must stay … awake._ Her determination lapsed for but a moment and Gale was lost to the world.

Unconsciousness, or black outs, were the equivalent of a death sentence. It could always be her last waking moment when something such as this happened while on patrol. Normally she would manage one way or another to drag her limp body into the safe realm of shadows before she fell into the blackness of respite, but tonight her luck had run dry.

* * *

><p>Red Arrow watched with a mixture of shock and horror as the amateur heroine who'd managed to bring him to his knees was sent sprawling across the rooftop. He involuntarily followed the Nightingale with his eyes as she finally came to a halt on the other side of the roof, where she landed on her stomach, limbs splayed out, and her face lying on the side.<p>

"Well, isn't this unlike you, the little bird managed to bring down you," scoffed the attacker. Red Arrow turned to see Cheshire looming over him.

His mind raced with thoughts as he leapt into action. He'd formulated a list of twenty questions he was asking himself as he reacted.

Red Arrow glanced at his bow on the far side of the roof not far from where the Nightingale was, he'd need to get to his weapon in order to face Cheshire.

"I _wouldn't_ do that if I were you, _hero_," a cold voice threatened from behind him. "I can throw a knife _faster_ than you can get to that _stick_ of yours."

Slowly, Red Arrow turned around. Behind him was a lanky person about the same height as him tossing a dagger leisurely in his hand. Red Arrow didn't take too much time to analyze the new opponent, he only took notice of the many throwing knives holstered on the guy's belt, and the crimson red strips on his forearms.

_Great, I'm between a rock and a hard place without a weapon and the only possible back up is either unconscious or too far away to help._

* * *

><p>A groggy cloud lifted as Nightingale began to register her surroundings again. Without moving she took stock of what had happened, fighting any amnesia that had incurred from the blow.<p>

_Cold water, pain in left shoulder, sick feeling in stomach, lesser pain in ribs and legs, head hurts worse than shoulder,_ she listed as she registered them. _I'm Nightingale and I'm not safe._

Somehow she sensed she wasn't safe, a primal instinct let her know. Staying as still as she possibly could, Nightingale listened for anything audible around her.

_It's raining, _was the first thing she listed. The noise felt comforting, but the next sound extinguished any comfort she felt.

"And to think on out last date you were so _possessive_, but here I find you cheating with someone out of your league," a vaguely familiar female voice said. She couldn't recall where she'd heard that voice before, but she couldn't recall anything too quickly with her brains pounding on her skull. "Here's an idea, why don't we trade dates?"

"Sounds fine to me, and I've got something special planned for the Nightingale," answered a hauntingly familiar tone.

"_Scourge_," she breathed. Gale's mind snapped out of the rut it'd been in at those words.

She tensed as she tried to remain still. If he planned to slit her throat where she lay, she'd have to be ready for him. He'd have to come to her and his knife could be rendered ineffective given the speed and surprise of attack.

_Relax, it's going to be alright, _Gale told herself. _You're awake and not incapable._

She breathed evenly as footfalls were heard coming towards her. Without noticeably moving, Nightingale tested her muscles in her legs and prepared to sit up as Scourge approached.

Though she couldn't see him, she felt his presence and could sense him crouch next to her.

"_Pity_ it _has_ to end like this," he said softly. "I'd enjoy this a whole lot more if you were awake, Nightingale."

"So do I!"

Nightingale rose from her position and punched a surprised Scourge in the jaw. He lost his balance and dropped his knife.

She could see it in his eyes that he hadn't anticipated her awakening, and for reasons beyond her reasoning, she recognized a hint of relief. But it didn't matter; she'd surprised both Scourge and his partner whom she'd identified as Cheshire, exactly what she needed.

Gale didn't waste any time in getting to her feet and black flipping out of the scything arc of Scrouge's freshly retrieved knife.

_What's this?_ When she landed in a ready crouch, her hand brushed Red Arrow's bow._ Perfect._

She saw the auburn archer cornered by the cat assassin. It didn't take long for Scourge and Cheshire to realize what could happen, but Nightingale had already taken action.

"Arrow, _catch_!"

She grabbed the bow and thrust it into the air in Red Arrow's direction.

* * *

><p>Red Arrow caught his bow as the melee began. By default he was now partnered with a not-to-be-underestimated amateur. While he didn't entirely think it was wise to be paired with a vigilante he'd been fighting not five minutes ago, he was grateful that he would not be standing alone.<p>

For whatever reason Cheshire had appeared, she'd brought someone else with her. Another unknown in the game being played on the small town game board. But unlike the Nightingale, he was a force of evil, that was evident by the death threat and the vigor that he swung at the bird girl with. Whoever he was, Nightingale seemed to be familiar with him and able to take care of herself in a fight against him.

"_Well_, _this_ is more like _it_," purred Cheshire as Red Arrow blocked her sai with his freshly caught weapon. "Just you _and_ me! But isn't she below your standards when it comes to something like _this_?"

"It doesn't matter since I'm fighting you," he quipped as he shoved her back.

He nocked an arrow to his bow string in record time and released it, sending it flying at Cheshire.

"Too _true_," she replied. "But I suppose your new sidekick friend _must_ be good if she can handle you."

Cheshire deflected the punch arrow and charged at him. He didn't have time to nock another arrow and shoot at her, so he was forced to fall back on using his bow as a Bo staff of sorts.

Her sai hit his weapon of accuracy with a _clang_. Red Arrow stepped back as the three-pronged weapons hit, steadying himself.

He hadn't been ready for the attack, so he hadn't been prepared to repel it, and put some firing space between him and Cheshire.

Cheshire took advantage of this instantly, and turned their fight into close combat.

With one quick fluid motion, Cheshire removed one sai from his bow and used the butt of the weapon to jab him in the stomach. Reflexes took over his movement as he doubled over to protect his vital organs.

"_Shit_!" he exclaimed as Cheshire last move sent him stumbling backwards. She'd brought her knee up with speed as he doubled over, knocking him in the face, and then to finish it off, she delivered a round house kick to his chest.

"I can see why you changed your name to 'Red Arrow'," Cheshire remarked. "You're not at all fast. At least not _tonight_."

He had no time to make a reply of his own as she reengaged him. Cheshire seemed to be determined to force him into the middle of the roof, forcing him to give up ground during the fight.

* * *

><p>Under the red ski mask, Nightingale could see a cold smile forming on Scourge's lips. He indefinitely was going to enjoy this more now that she was awake. She too was glad it was turning out this way. Life was very nice though she knew that beloved people were waiting for her, but she had a commission, the job of protecting Daleville and she <em>probably<em> needed to be alive to do that.

She intended to fight with vigor that she had not previously used for the past hour or so. Daleville needed Nightingale alive to protect her, and she intended to remain so until the battle that was raging in her town passed over.

Nightingale's fight with Scourge would be different from the ones she'd engaged in throughout this night. It would have a totally different theme from anything else.

He had a clear objective in their fights, unlike Tom and Allie, he meant to harm her, and ultimately kill her. His fight theme had a select few themes for her, and she had only one objective: fight, win, survive, and apprehend him.

Scourge was a slippery one. She had known that the Daleville police probably wouldn't manage to keep Scourge locked up, but she could hope.

With a blade in hand, Scourge swiped at her. But she ducked out of the way of his blade's deadly arc. Scourge didn't often use his throwing knives in their rooftop rumbles, not unless he knew that he'd hit his target.

Their rooftop scuffles consisted of close combat moves, and Scourge dodging her whip. Scourge stuck to using his knives as if they were Escrima sticks.

Despite the obvious advantage of not having sharp projectiles thrown at her with deadly accuracy, Scourge was just as deadly as ever during these bouts, if not more so. His knives were sharp enough to cut her without her feeling it until it was too late, and using them in the fashion of Escrima sticks made it near impossible to keep from getting sliced.

Fortunately, tonight she'd caught him off guard, and he only had one knife in hand, so his scything slash left his chest unguarded. Taking advantage of this opening, Gale preformed a precision round house kick.

He staggered backwards, whether because of the force she'd kicked him with or due to the bruises that she'd let on his torso the night before, she couldn't tell. Though seemingly harmed by her attack, Scourge smirked, evidently pleased that she was fighting for all she was worth.

"Well, _well_ aren't we _just_ full of surprises tonight, little songbird?" he taunted, while pulling out a second dagger he'd neglected to use at the beginning and twirled it in his finger menacingly.

"You're one to _talk_," she responded. "_Didn't_ I leave you in a pair of handcuffs last night, _yet_ here you are."

She didn't often press Scourge's nerves during their encounters, but tonight she needed answers and Scourge was the only conduit present that she knew well enough to know when to stop pressing her luck.

"_Yes_, a situation I've been meaning to thank you for putting me in."

She might not have gotten any answer out of him, but she'd sure pressed his buttons.

He charged at her, blades prepared for an attack. His anger expressed itself in a fight much like Tom's did, through focused moves and energy, but it also appeared in his time and words and partly clouded judgment.

Gale advanced quickly, but leaped over Scourge and ducked under the sweeping blade as Scourge spun around. She back pedaled a strategic distance away as Scourge slashed at her again, and he left an opening that would quickly close, but not quickly enough. Nightingale unleashed a front kick.

Scourge grunted, but gave no ground. Instead of waiting for Scourge to lash out at her again, Nightingale back flipped and then propelled herself further back with her hand. In mid air, she unwound her whip from her waist where it'd been for the last few fights.

"Stepping it up a notch, are _we_?" Scourge assessed coolly as she _cracked_ her whip in a challenge.

"That's _an_ understatement." Nightingale smirked and swung her whip at him.

He dodged and charged at her as her leather length receded. She crouched just in the nick of time to avoid Scourge's flying kick. As her opponent landed and regained his footing, she danced around to face him.

Now her back was to the edge of the bakery rooftop and her face towards Scourge, and the fight between Red Arrow and Cheshire. It looked like they were going at it tooth and nail, but she really didn't pay too much mind to them. The only thing she took note of was their proximity to her and Scourge.

Scourge positioned himself in a ready stance, and twirled his knives menacingly in a challenge, waiting for _her_ to make the first move. Gale studied him for a moment, eyeing him for any weakness or unguarded opening that she could take advantage of.

_We're practically at an impasse,_ she thought setting her jaw and decided upon just a point blank charge. It'd give her time to think and allow Scourge to react to her.

Her bolas weren't an option at this point. It was uncertain that she would actually hit the lithe villain and she didn't want to waste them at this point in the night.

She noticed Scourge smirk as she came at him. Nightingale momentarily realized that she had played right into his hands, but she too had to smile which she hid expertly.

_So we're playing a game of tag, _huh_? _she thought to herself as Scourge side stepped her advance. _We'll just see _how_ that works for you, Scourge._

With a quick pirouette, she picked up enough momentum and _snapped_ her whip once more at Scourge.

This time, however, the cracking leather length hit its mark. She hadn't been aiming to hit his hands to disarm him, nor his chest to inflict more painful bruises in that already pained area, but she'd instead intended for her whip to coil itself around Scourge's forearm.

Scourge was taken aback by this, she usually used her whip only to ward him off, disarm him, and in general inflict pain on him. She didn't often use this offensive attack on him, thus he was stunned when her whip tightly wrapped itself on his arm.

Using the momentum of Scourge's surprise, she yanked on her leather length as she hard as she could and as quickly as she could.

Her strong tug cause Scourge to stumble forward, his grip on his knives loosened as he staggered towards her. Nightingale used this all to her advantage.

She stepped forward as he came forward and preformed another round house kick on him in the chest. He dropped his dagger altogether as he staggered and fell backwards.

Nightingale knew the fight was over. She'd won her rooftop rumble against Scourge.

"You ready to give up ye-"

"_Nightingale_, get _out_ of the way!" Red Arrow called a warning to her.

For a few seconds, Gale didn't know what she was doing, but she did register that she'd pulled some gymnastic maneuver to evade Cheshire's thrust of a katanna sword. She found that she had back pedaled away from a knife wielding Scourge with vengeance glinting in his eyes, and a sword swinging Cheshire who was advancing towards her.

"We're never going to give up, little songbird, not until you're dead," Scourge declared. The fearsome determination mixed in with the vengeance in his black eyes made her stomach churn with fear. He definitely intended to kill her and if he didn't succeed, Nightingale would bet her bottom dollar that Cheshire would to it.

"_Ah_, but you're forgetting something, my fiendish foes," she taunted with a satisfied smirk to hide the fear she felt. "You've got to catch me _first_ in order to kill me."

Before Cheshire or Scourge could process her words, she'd leapt off the edge of the building and swung across the street. If those two were hell-bent on killing her, then she intended to have them work for it.


	30. One Night Stand

**One Night Stand**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**12:58 P.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Nightingale felt perfectly safe as she suspended herself in mid air. The momentum of the fall gave her a much needed push to swing and glide across the intersection. She was running on reserve energy and fumes which she had little of left.<p>

Her whip released its grip on the building and Nightingale followed it up with a midair summersault that allowed her up to the height she needed. She landed softly in a crouch.

She landed ready to run, but glanced over her shoulder to assess what had decided to follow her across the intersection. She needed to know who was pursuing her. It would determine what gait she used to run across the rooftops.

As anticipated and expected, Scourge was using his homemade grappling device to swing across the intersection, a cruel smile was plastered on his masked face. Behind him, she caught a fleeting glimpse of Red Arrow and Cheshire dancing in a daring fight, but she supposed that Cheshire would soon be following her. If she was, as she thought, the reason for Cheshire's reason for Cheshire's attack, then she was sure that the cat themed assassin wouldn't be too far behind Scourge to make sure that the job was finished.

If her estimations were correct, she'd best to waste no time in vacating the block. A head start would be necessary to avoid getting a knife in her ribs.

* * *

><p>"What the <em>heck's<em> going on?" Red Arrow demanded as he blocked Cheshire's katanna sword from decapitating him with his bow.

"Just some clean up of some loose ends and a little _insurance_," replied Cheshire with a tone that matched the smirk on her mask. "By the way, what are _you_ doing here? I've been trying to get an answer out of you all evening."

"Trying to get a handle on the situation," he grunted in response as he parried the blow. "The Nightingale seems to be the ideal _person_ to get that information from."

"I wouldn't be _too_ sure about that, _handsome_," she informed him with an even slyer of a tone before delivering a front kick to his chest. It had more power than the Nightingale's kick, so it sent him back pedaling and falling on his butt.

He was half surprised when a katanna sword wasn't pointed at his throat with Cheshire smirking over him. The full surprise was when Cheshire had literally disappeared in a split second and was no where to be seen when he hauled himself up from the gravel strewn floor.

"What the _hell's_ going on for _real_?!" he snapped at the air as he looked around and over the edge. He barely caught a glimpse of Cheshire sprinting across the rooftops on the adjacent side of the street.

He half rolled his eyes. He didn't understand why the Nightingale was being chased by not only one but two villains. She was an amateur, but the two villains seemed to be very interested in her.

_Wasn't she trying to tell something earlier?_ Red Arrow asked himself as he followed the weirdest event of the night yet. _Maybe I should have listened to her._

* * *

><p>A knife <em>whirled<em> past her head, she knew that Scourge had to be very determined to kill her if a knife was being thrown at her body in any way, shape, and form during a gallivant across roofs. It didn't take her too long to figure out that Scourge was hell-bent and determined to accomplish his goal.

She leapt over a gap between the buildings and slid behind potted flowers and an air conditioning unit.

_Time to fight, _she thought with a grimace. Her adrenaline levels were in fluxion, but pain was nearly constant. She took up the usual rhythm that often happened when Scourge pursued her or vice versa. Usually that rhythm consisted of sprinting across the rooftops, at irregular intervals slipping into the shadows, and ambushing the pursuer.

Hopefully, Scourge hadn't noticed her fade into the night, so he'd walked right into her ambush.

_God, I hope Cheshire hasn't joined the charge yet, I'm gonna die if that happens. _

She glared at a spot on the other side of the roof as she waited for her arch enemy.

In a moment she heard the _thud_ of boots accompanied by twin _splashes_. Scourge had arrived and it was time for a bout of fists and kicks.

"_Nugh_!" she groaned as she _snapped_ her whip at Scourge. Thankfully he hadn't been expecting her.

He stumbled backwards as her whip flew towards him. Scourge _may_ have had a throwing knife at the ready, _but_ if he wasn't expecting her attack, then she had the advantage.

But he didn't take too long before he realized what was happening. Once her whip receded, he did what he always did, and came in for an attack.

As always in a fight, it was a matter of action and reaction, while she liked to act, she was an expert at reaction as well.

While ducking under Scourge's advanced, she pivoted her foot, and rotated her hip. In one fluid motion, she took Scourge's foot out from under him.

Once the low, sweeping kick was completed, she launched herself away from Scourge's grounded body in her usually floor exercise manor. She did this merely to distance herself from Scourge, but this time it turned out to be more of a defensive maneuver.

Cheshire had indeed joined the charge with her katanna in full swing. She'd narrowly avoided a piercing blade to the skull or torso with her gymnastic maneuver.

The cat themed assassin didn't give Nightingale anytime to prepare for the next attack she launched, but Gale had just enough spare seconds to react on one of the few ways she knew how.

Defiantly, she lifted her forearm above her head to block the shard edged Japanese weapon knowing full well that this would likely cause her a lot of pain, if not would her more than she already was. Her crude black armor worked efficiently enough, it stopped the blade from hitting anything vital.

Cheshire yanked the blade out of her bracer, and Gale took advantage of the small momentary opening. As Cheshire removed the sword from the armor, Gale shot forward and punched the villainess as hard as she could in the jaw.

While it probably pained her more than it did Cheshire, it allowed her a few more moments to escape. She had no intention of fighting Scourge and Cheshire alone, at least not when the advantage was clearly not her own.

Quicker than either stunned villain could attack, she sprinted off over the rooftop and over the next one. Escape and life would be hers as long as she could keep this up.

* * *

><p>Red Arrow smirked as the two villains were stunned by a vigilante. She was fairly creative and talented. But he could see that the bird girl was reluctant to fight by herself against two opponents, he could see why too. She didn't appear to have the energy she'd had at the beginning of his fight with her, in fact she seemed more tired and weary than he'd seen her like before.<p>

_At least she can hold her own,_ he thought as he took aim at Cheshire's katanna. If the night was to be a victory for the heroes residing in Daleville, then that was to be the first thing to go.

The Nightingale had just barely missed having that weapon stuck in her vital organs, if it hadn't been for what probably was armor on her forearms the vigilante of Daleville probably would be dead.

He released his arrow, and it hit its mark, true and forcefully. Cheshire's sword flew out of her hands with a loud _ping_. She turned her gaze away from where the Nightingale was headed to him, even with her mask on Cheshire looked angry.

"Well, look _whose_ back for more," she taunted angrily. "Why don't you take care of him, Scourge? I think it's time for a _girl's_ night out."

"_No_, you handle _your_ _boyfriend_. The Nightingale's _mine_," replied the crimson stripped villain before following said vigilante across the rooftops.

"Corporative free lancers are so _hard_ to come by these days." Cheshire sighed, leaving Red Arrow to wonder what was going on.

He had no time to question her. An attack was immediately upon him, though Cheshire was now katanna-less. She'd reverted to close combat and her sai.

Red Arrow charged across the rooftop while firing arrows at the assassin. She deflected every arrow with ease, and in a matter of moments the space between the two was little more than a couple of inches. His bow tonight, doubled as a staff. He'd been using his bow so much as a staff that it probably set a personal record.

"You're gonna have to treat me to a _proper_ dance one of these dates," the villainess quipped as he pushed her off his bow.

"I'll do that when we _actually_ go on a date," he retorted bringing his bow swinging towards Cheshire once her sai were removed from his bow. She diligently dodged the blow.

With the momentum she'd picked up by dancing around his bow, she brought her leg up for a kick which landed on his chin. His jaw felt like it had been _shattered_ and _rattled_ into a million pieces as he pushed himself up from the ground.

His head spun as he quickly rose to his feet. He needed to get out of the vulnerable position swiftly or else risk getting a certain pointy projectile in his throat.

This time Cheshire hadn't run off. As he rose, she pounced on him. He had mere seconds to react to the attack. His mind barely registered Cheshire's fist careening towards him before he ducked under the appendage.

Red Arrow instinctively performed a sweep kick to follow-up the duck. He should have expected that Cheshire would merely tumble over and out-of-the-way of his advance.

He spun around, head still feeling out-of-place, as he readied himself for Cheshire's next volley of attacks.

In a split second, Cheshire was on top of him again, sai clanging against his bow. Out of routine, he deflected, but that appeared to be exactly what Cheshire wanted him to do.

Once he'd pushed her off to the side, she took off across the rooftop after the two who'd already fled.

"Oh, good _grief_! What's _with_ them _and_ going after the Nightingale?" Red Arrow groaned at the thought that this fight was becoming a moot point.

* * *

><p>Scourge was practically on top of Nightingale's tail feathers, but she was using that draw back to her advantage as much as she cold. Meticulously, she was luring Scourge to the less fortunate, more rundown part of Daleville.<p>

She had no real plan of action, other than get Scourge to a different and more useful battlefield. If she wanted a successful night, then she needed to have a more resourceful area and the downtown slum area was just the place to find it.

All she had to avoid was getting in trouble herself. She was leading Scourge into some of the abandoned buildings. She hardly ever came here when she was on regular patrol. It was _too_ dangerous on regular nights, but it gave her just the advantage she needed on abnormal night such as this.

She only came here when the risk pursuing her was equal to or greater than the being there.

_Why does danger always end up behind me_ and _ahead of me at the worst of times?_ she pondered as she dove onto another rooftop. Above the constant sound of falling rain, Gale heard the whirl of presumably a throwing knife.

_Holy crap! _

It hadn't been a throwing knife that'd she'd narrowly missed; it'd been a sai, the classic three-pronged weapon of a certain adversary.

Nightingale didn't need to glance over her shoulder to know that Cheshire had joined in her pursuit.

"_Ugh_!" Gale groaned as a boot landed on her back a split second after she rolled up onto her feet. The person who'd buried their shoe into her back also landed on top of her when she collapsed on the gravel rooftop.

One arm landed painfully under her, and she used that arm to launch herself up off the ground. It was forceful enough to get whichever villain was on her back off.

Cheshire had been the one who'd pounced on her, but now she was pointing the sai that was left at Nightingale's throat while putting a knee on her chest. Surprisingly, she managed to grab the villainess's and muscle Cheshire off of her.

Once she'd succeeded in getting her maneuverability back, Gale rolled away from Cheshire and urgently back on her feet.

"_Nugh-ugh_!" Nightingale's eye widened as she grimaced, and her hand snapped to her left shoulder. The medical gauze had been cut and blood was flowing out again, at least it was slower than the last time.

"The little bird really _doesn't_ have much of a tolerance to pain now, _does_ she?" taunted Scourge before unsheathing another knife and launching it at her.

Nightingale leapt out-of-the-way, ignoring the protest of her shoulder and rolled behind the typical air conditioning unit. Gale took a quick gasp of breath before going straight back into the fray.

"You do know that cats _kill_ birds, Nightingale?" Cheshire quipped before coming at her both sai trying to puncture her abdomen.

"I do, _but_ I have _no_ intention of getting killed by you or _Scrooge_, over there," she declared while she blocked the sai with her bracer.

While having a bout of fist fighting with Cheshire, Gale eyed Scourge. He was advancing on them with a wry smile and a smirk that meant no good for anyone.

She was certain that there would be a knife in her ribs, when a sharp _twang_ and a _zip_ that didn't emanate from either villain were heard.

"_Argh_!" Gale heard Scourge grunt. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Scourge had been disarmed by a red fletched arrow.

Nightingale gave a small, half-smile as she heard Red Arrow join her. She didn't _necessarily_ like him, but she was sincerely grateful for his assistance. If she _ever_ _really_ got the chance, and he wasn't in a foul mood, she'd actually thank him for his help and saving her life.

"If you _two_ keep _insisting_ on _interrupting_ our girl's night out, we'll have to reschedule it and then it may _never_ happen," Cheshire complained as she pulled her sai away from Gale to begin another volley of slashes and blows, which Nightingale was beginning to understand who to block without getting her forearm bruised or cut.

"_Oh_, come _on_, some testosterone make things _so_ much easier to live through, especially when the female I'm supposed to hang with _is_ _trying_ to assassinate _me_," Gale protested as she strained to keep out-of-the-way of the sai.

"That's my job, _sweetie_."

Nightingale somehow found that she had Cheshire by the wrists while the two men fought each other. She heard Cheshire chuckle. Apparently, this was a situation that the villainess could work well with, but Nightingale had other ideas.

With one fluid motion, Gale stepped forward and used Cheshire as something of a spring-board to back flip out of range of Cheshire's attacks.

"I told _you_, I have _no_ intentions of being killed by _you_."

With that said and a mock solute, she jumped to the next rooftop.

* * *

><p>Red Arrow fired an arrow at the nimble villain Cheshire had referred to as Scourge. He was agile, Red Arrow would give him that, but he was no Cheshire. Scourge couldn't deflect the arrows with knives he wielded.<p>

It gave him an advantage, but the aim with which Scourge threw his knives _impressed_ and somewhat _horrified_ him. He could now see how the Nightingale had such an apt ability to dodge his arrows, especially _if_ she encountered Scourge on a regular basis.

As soon as Red Arrow hit the ground of the rooftop everyone was fighting on, his duel with Scourge turned into close combat.

He blocked Scourge's slash and followed it up by jabbing his opponent in the stomach. In the same motion, he released one hand from his bow and hit Scourge squarely in the face.

His opponent went stumbling backwards a few feet. Red Arrow smirked, Scourge wasn't experienced enough to be much trouble to him.

Red Arrow advanced upon Scourge again, using his bow as a staff. The villain wasn't, evidently, familiar with fighting against a staff of some sort.

A knock to the head and another jab in the stomach gave Scourge trouble. A _whack_ to his opponent's ribs would likely leave a bruise on him that he was unused to.

The flurry of swift attacks caused Scourge to back pedal, breathing laboriously. His attention shifted to the Nightingale's fight with Cheshire.

She seemed to have it well in hand up to a point. The bird girl used Cheshire as a gymnastic tool to get to the opposing edge of the rooftop.

"I told _you_, I have _no_ intention of being killed by _you_," Nightingale quipped while giving Cheshire a mock solute.

She somersaulted across the gap between the buildings and landed on the other rooftop gracefully. It was almost like watching what a female version of Robin would be like in a fight.

Scourge apparently recovered from the volley of blows, at least enough to send a throwing knife towards the Nightingale as she cart wheeled across the rooftop.

But said projectile never penetrated the agile bird. The split second if should have hit her; the Nightingale was no longer there.

"Okay, that's _weird_, what just happened?"

The Nightingale had not simply faded into the shadows, she'd actually fallen. The sound of a collapsing roof signified _that_.

* * *

><p>Nightingale shuddered as she coughed and came back to her senses.<p>

"I'm gonna feel _that_ in the morning … for the next _week_," Gale groaned. "Oh _crap_!"

She rolled quickly off to the side, ready for another fight. Cheshire had followed her down into the dilapidated buildings.

She'd narrowly avoided being pinned by the cat themed assassin and who knows what else.

Oddly enough the night had turned in her favor suddenly. The battle area had suddenly turned into an abandoned apartment building with a hole in the roof. What little light was shed from the falling moon filtered through that hole and the shadows resided everywhere else.

Gale had mastered becoming part of the night, and presumably so had Cheshire, but it still gave her something more to work with.

Instead of engaging Cheshire again, Nightingale slipped into the shadows to observe and wait for a more opportune moment. It was far easier than being kicked around and beat up like a punching bag, especially when Red Arrow and Scourge followed the villainess in a tousle of fists and bow.

While Red Arrow multitasked and fought Scourge and Cheshire, Gale assessed her surroundings as quick as she possibly could. She'd fallen into the attic of a condemned building. The rafters appeared somewhat unstable and unsafe, but if need be, they'd support _her_ weight. The floor _however_ looked like there were spots that would collapsed if any weight was put on the boards.

_Great. This is going to be a game of Twister without the colors, _Gale thought, a line forming on her face, her hand rested momentarily on a rain-soaked pouch on her belt as she readied it for a quick opening. _I've got two bolas let, best make 'em count._

* * *

><p>Red Arrow grunted as he shoved Cheshire's sai off his bow for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night. Once the pressure of her attacks was off of him, he had sparse seconds to dodge and block Scourge's wielding of his knives. To make the position worse he was using them in the Escrima stick fashion so Red Arrow had to focus on where the second knife while he blocked or dodged the first.<p>

For the next thirty seconds, Scourge forced him to back pedal as he either dodged of block the knives while lending a punch or jab of his own on the villain. Once the flurry of knives subsided, Cheshire made her move.

She slashed, jabbed, and parried as she forced him to give ground. The butt of her sai landed once or twice on his chest and abdomen, but only a few times did the point of the three-pronged weapon glance him.

"Aren't you tired _yet_, Arrow? You don't seem _yourself_ right now," she commented softly to him when the space between them was but a few inches, their faces were so close that if it weren't for the mask he might have felt her breath ghost his cheek.

"All things considered, I'm _just_ fine," he responded, once again spinning his bow in such a way that she was forced to back away from him. Surprisingly though, she did more than step a foot away from him, she completely stepped aside so that Scourge could take his turn at an assault.

The crimson stripped miscreant surged towards him, knives ready to slice him up. Even if Scourge was a small town dissident, he seemed as murderous as anything he'd ever encountered in the city.

Red Arrow braced himself for such an attack, but something intervened. Before he could register exactly what hit Scourge, something wrapped around the villain. A second after Scourge's arms were incapable of much movement, the Nightingale launched herself at him, landed on his chest, and used him as a spring-board to back flip over towards Red Arrow's aid.

She landed expertly beside him, ready for the next assault. Red Arrow could see that she'd regained some momentum and energy, perhaps the change of scenery had something to do with that.

"Your shoulder gonna be okay?" he questioned, he couldn't help but notice that short coming, especially when it was a brighter crimson oozing from the wound than Scourge's forearm strips.

"Until this is over, it's gonna have to be," she growled coldly in response. "You take Kitty _Three-Claws_ and I'll handle _Saber-Hands_?"

"Fine by _me_." He smirked at the bird girl's quick sense of humor and endurance attitude. He wondered what she'd have been like if she'd been Batman's sidekick.

* * *

><p>Scourge didn't hesitate to loose himself from her bola, he was angry no, and his emotions were starting boil over and cloud him mind. While getting something – whether arrogance or anger – to cloud his judgment was necessary to defeat him, Gale knew just how deadly a pissed off Scourge could be.<p>

Though, it paled in comparison with what Cheshire seemed like even in a calm state. At least she wouldn't stand alone. Someone had her back.

It was a new feeling for her, but one that she told herself not to get comfortable with. Once the cane being raised in Daleville was burned, she'd be alone to protect her realm.

Nightingale stood calmly and unaffected by the sight of her arch enemy charging at her with murder gleaming in his eyes. Normally, her whip would be an ideal tactic for disrupting this attack, but tonight she would have to adapt her normal fighting methods.

Red Arrow had, without saying so, agreed to partner up with her, so she was obligated to keep him out of Scourge's deadly arch, even if he definitely could defend himself from such a villain.

She waited for Scourge to attack, coldly staring him down. In mere seconds, she went from motionless to full dodging his blades.

She calmly went about avoiding dangerous slashes, waiting for the correct moment to strike. She knew Scourge's repeating patterns well enough to anticipate the exact moment when she could grab his wrist as it completed a scything arch and then bring her leg up to knee him in the chest and stomach from the side.

* * *

><p>Red Arrow was practically back to back with the Nightingale as he artfully parried and struck Cheshire with his bow. He had to remain conscious that she was behind him while he combated Cheshire. If he made one wrong move, Cheshire's sai would go past him and stab the vigilante in the back.<p>

Though that could very well be _exactly_ what Cheshire wanted, then that would be the exact thing that he'd want to avoid.

"If you think you can win, you'd better think _again_," Cheshire warned, leaning in close as their proximity would allow.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Chesh, as a team we might _just_ surprise you," he answered before breaking his bow loose and bringing it against her side quickly. He tried to bat her head next with it, but she simply ducked. The way she moved at the moment caused him to be unnerved by the constant smile on her mask.

"To bad that _'we'_ isn't made up of _us_," she stated. He ignored that baffling comment, and dodged a kick that Cheshire had intended on hitting his head with.

An upper cut collided with his chin and involuntarily he stumbled backwards into the Nightingale. Red Arrow felt her trip forward under his weight.

* * *

><p>Nightingale managed to muffle a groan as she stepped forward, giving into the pressure Red Arrow put on her, and right into Scourge's aggressive punch. Scourge's fist hit her bleeding shoulder.<p>

"Watch _it_!" she hissed over her shoulder before using her close proximity Scourge had gotten to her due to the punch to launch a counter attack. The counter attack turned into a flurry of vicious punches and odd kicks here or there.

Scourge staggered backwards, giving Gale room to step away from Red Arrow, a movement that she _liked_. She may have partnered up with him, but that didn't mean that she knew how to fight _with_ someone else in a double battle. She only had ever been the subject of a double battle, never had she been partnered with someone to fight two other people.

Gale ducked under Scourge's swing and again punched his torso. She was determined to not get hurt any more than she already was. The searing pain in her shoulder was only ignorable for _so_ long, she needed to avoid getting wounded. The duration of the night had already given her an on-coming cold, a bloody shoulder, and who know what other odd bruises and cuts she'd discover in the morning. She already had been knocked out once before, so Gale both had to escape the fighting _and_ survive it.

She performed the best front kick she could in this situation to get Scourge to back pedal and allow her more space. He grunted in a pained tone as he again stumbled backwards. Once there was something more than mere inches between her and Scourge's knives, Gale leapt to the side and rolled away from Cheshire's and Red Arrow's sparring match.

The tumble away from too much danger had disoriented her a bit, but luckily, it had been more so for Scourge than herself so she had a few seconds to devise a tactic involving what resources were around her. The elements of the attic were in her favor, she was far lighter than Scourge so the floor and cross beams above them may hold her weight longer than they would Scourge's.

Those spare seconds would come in handy later, but right then she had to focus on the charging villain. Once Scourge had regained his lock on her, he didn't hesitate to begin his barrage of slashes again.

He careened towards her with one knife in front of him prepared to slit her stomach, and the other just behind it, ready to jab into her when her intestines had spilled out. Gale had no intention of letting him go through with that particular pattern however.

_Let's hope this works and my nightly supply of luck isn't squandered,_ Gale thought, while mentally timing Scourge's gait. Right at the second when Scourge would have been slicing her opened, she back flipped away from him. Much like the floor exercise routines she was so fond of, she back flipped, cart wheeled, and somersaulted away from Scourge. She put flair and panache into her movements despite the painful protests of every muscle in her small body, the point of all the unnecessary color in her movements was to both agitate and taunt Scourge into engaging her in more hand-to-hand combat.

It would _have_ to work too, because if she failed, Scourge would undoubtedly resort to using his throwing knives, since they were in such an ideal location for that. Of course, she needn't have worried about the actual effect of her routine, because the desired effect usually was the actual effect of her taunts with Scourge.

A scowl was visible on Scourge's face as he rushed at her. Gale mentally grimaced with each _creak_ and _moan_ that Scourge's run produced on the floor. The old floor boards underneath them were more rotten and frail than she'd first supposed, though they'd serve her purposes they could just as _easily_ betray her at any given moment.

Though the floor worried her, her main concern was Scourge and his present wave of attacks. As he sprinted towards her, Scourge tossed one of his knives at her. Nightingale side-stepped out of the deadly projectile's path calmly.

Behind her she heard the _thunk_ as the blade imbedded itself into the wall, but her focus was Scourge as he attempted to stab her stomach.

To avoid losing any of her vital organs, Gale allowed her knees to buckle when she crouched. Scourge's thrust landed in the wood of the wall.

Nightingale smirked. This had been exactly what she'd wanted.

In a fluid motion, she took Scourge's legs out from under him with a low kick. Once he was on the ground, she leapt over him hands first and landed a few feet away from him.

It never took Scourge but a few seconds to get back up and this time was no exception. He was back on his toes the moment she landed.

_It's now or never, Gale,_ she told herself as she unwound her whip from her waist. The bull whip was also an ideal weapon in this environment such as this. Though the small spaces encumbered her abilities to utilize all that her whip could do, she was still fully capable of using it to hit Scourge at random when she needed to.

* * *

><p>Red Arrow didn't know what to make of the situation any more. He'd been glad that he was no longer back to back with the Nightingale, because it would have been very awkward if the amateur were around when Cheshire's quips started getting personal, but all throughout the fight Cheshire had been driving him back towards the Nightingale while she fought Scourge.<p>

This was unexpected and still confused him, but the question resonated in Red Arrow's mind was what did the Nightingale know? Evidently, this whole brawl was because of her and whatever she knew, therefore it was important and he needed to know it. But he couldn't get that information from her if she was dead and that seemed to be Cheshire's and Scourge's goal.

He had to help keep her alive and that meant keeping Cheshire occupied. But that would be difficult.

The confining space of the attic and the constant close combat attacks wouldn't allow him much of an opportunity to fire arrows at Cheshire, and using his bow as a staff was getting tiring and difficult. He wasn't all that experienced with a staff and that only made it harder. Besides almost every time he tried to strike Cheshire, the villainess dodged and avoided it making the fight frustrating and impossible to win this fight.

As he edged closer and closer to where the Nightingale and Scourge tangoed, he heard a loud _crack_ emanate from behind him. Before he could really register what was happening, Cheshire had dropped one of her sai and the Nightingale was quipping: "This bird's got some unexpected tricks up her sleeves, and it looks like it wasn't _that_ hard to recreate that trick again."

"Why you _little_-" Red Arrow cut Cheshire off by taking advantage of the opportunity to strike. He brought his bow crashing into her side before bringing it back and striking her masked face.

Cheshire wasn't able to block these attacks so he followed it up with an attempt to take her legs out from under her, but it failed. Cheshire had regained enough momentum to dodge his kick.

"Why don't we put a stop to this fight now, and clip the little songbird's _wings_?" Scourge called from behind him. Red Arrow didn't like the sound of that, but at least the Nightingale knew something was about to happen.

"My thoughts exactly," replied Cheshire.

* * *

><p>Gale didn't know what would happen next. She now was the target of both villains, but one was behind her and the other was in front of her. She didn't have eyes in the back of her head, so she only hoped that Red Arrow had her back.<p>

Scourge was hard enough to manage alone, but with a second murderous adversary behind her, Gale wasn't sure how to deal with that.

_Just focus on Scourge, you've got to trust Red Arrow. Even if he was trying to harm you not too long ago,_ she told herself, as she snapped her whip at a smirking Scourge. He seemed to have some knowledge of what was going to happen next.

He cart wheeled out-of-the-way and off the side of her whip. Nightingale had a vague idea of what his next move would be when he landed in a crouch ready to spring upon her.

But that never happened.

Her focus had been solely on Scourge, so when something tackled her to the ground she was caught completely surprised and stunned.

"Stay _down_," she heard Red Arrow growl to her after she'd come to halt. He'd been the one to tackle her and he'd also landed on top of her.

Stunned and surprised, she made no defiant moves and complied with his command. In a split second, he was off of her and firing an arrow.

From where she was she heard Scourge grunt, indicating that the arrow had hit him.

* * *

><p>Red Arrow had tackled the Nightingale out of necessity. After Scourge had moved out-of-the-way Cheshire had thrown the sai that was left at the bird girl. He'd tackled the Nightingale in order to save her life.<p>

The vigilante was still an amateur and wasn't occasionally checking on the fights around her while she fought her own enemy. An amateur mistake, but at least he'd been able to make sure that she lived to learn from it.

He rolled off the Nightingale and fired a net arrow at Scourge. The crimson stripped villain was hell-bent on killing the Nightingale, evident by his earlier comments, so he'd have to make sure that Scourge was restrained while he took care of Cheshire.

In mid-flight, the arrow released the net and it went flying towards Scourge, who was unable to avoid it. Once the villain was restrained he turned his attention the Cheshire.

Cheshire had one sai imbedded in the wall, while the other was on the floor, her katanna sword was on a rooftop somewhere, so logically the only other weapon she had on her person would be her shurikens. They were just as dangerous as her other weapons, but they required a longer range than the environment allowed at the moment.

_Close combat or shurikens, which is it, Cheshire?_ he thought to himself while waiting for her to make the first move.

He didn't have to wait long. As soon as Scourge was restrained, she charged at him. She tossed two shurikens at him, which he blocked with his bow, but they'd been a mere distraction. The moment that he blocked the projectiles, she leapt into the air, rotated her body to pick up more speed, and then straightened it so that she'd come down on him in a kick.

But something unexpected intervened and spared him from a painful attack. A length of leather _snapped_ into the air and coiled around Cheshire's leg. The leather pulled Cheshire off course, and sent her crashing into the ground instead of him.

"You're gonna regret _that, little hero_," Cheshire growled to the Nightingale, the source of the leather length.

"I think I'll _survive_," the bird girl retorted.

"You do realize that was a very danger move," Red Arrow informed her as Cheshire sent shurikens flying their way. He blocked them and dodged anything that he couldn't, while she elegantly dodged them all with acrobatics that probably could rival Robin's.

"What's done is done, besides we're supposed to be working together right now, _remember_?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean someone has to get killed because of my mistakes, _amateur_."

Their conversation ended there as Cheshire rushed at them. They'd have to work together now, because he needed the information from her and Cheshire was trying to kill the informant.

Nightingale was using her whip as a weapon of distance while he combated Cheshire as close proximity. This surprisingly worked very efficiently, probably because the Nightingale was extremely skilled with her whip even if she was an amateur with some incompetent draw backs.

While Cheshire had to dodge his punches and Nightingale's _cracking_ whip, the villainess seemed to be dancing closer and closer to the bird girl.

_What's the songbird got up her sleeves for this?_ Red Arrow wondered. The Nightingale was unaffected by Cheshire's continuous movements in her direction, but rather she seemed to want this to happen.

"Prepare to die, Nightingale!" Cheshire cried before cart wheeling towards the Nightingale. During her maneuver, Cheshire grabbed the fallen sai and then leapt into the air.

Red Arrow reached immediately by drawing a punch arrow from his quiver and aiming it at the air bourn Cheshire. But the Nightingale beat him to firing.

As soon as Cheshire had rushed at her, the songbird had dropped her whip and produced another bola from her person. With a quick motion, she'd thrown it at Cheshire, where it wrapped around the villainess.

"_Arrow_, fire _now_!" she yelled, snapping him out of his shock that the bola had actually worked on Cheshire.

He did as the Nightingale requested and fired the punch arrow at Cheshire. The arrow collided with Cheshire and caused her to lose the needed motion to land on her feet from the bola's impact and sent her crashing into the floor hard.

The fall not only sent Cheshire to the ground, but she also fell through the floor. An uproar of cracking floor boards sounded loudly through the attic, a cloud of dust from the crumbling hole filled the air and encompassed the heroes.

"What is it you wanted to tell me?" Red Arrow asked as the dust began to settle. He could see the silhouette of the Nightingale through the settling dust, but the shadow moved away.

When the dust finally did settle, the Nightingale wasn't anywhere to be seen.

_Hmmm, just like a typical Bat, wonder why they aren't friends yet?_


	31. Repercussions

**Repercussions**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**2:03 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Red Arrow unlatched the disgusting window in order to allow him to get onto the rooftop. He wasn't about to attempt to go through the hole in the rooftop, he didn't know how stable it would be and he didn't want to risk it.<p>

Besides the Nightingale, Cheshire had slipped away in the dust cloud at the tail end of the fight. As had Scourge, but he'd actually seen the crimson stripped villain leave, unlike the two females.

He found some hand holds in the crumbling red brick wall of the building as he climbed to the rooftop. The only thing that slowed him down was the fact that there were very few hand holds that he could use, and the ones that he did find were very small and hard to hold on to.

Eventually, he got high enough to where he could reach up and hoist himself on to the edge of the rooftop. The hole in the roof was massive; the old roof looked like it wouldn't hold anyone else any time soon. The Nightingale had been very lucky that she'd been able to walk away from the fall in one piece and still be able-bodied enough to combat an assassin and probably one of her personal rogues.

_Good grief,_ he thought as he started to take a panorama survey of the area in order to try to spot the Nightingale. _What is this town? A science experiment for vigilantes and villains?_

As he should have expected, the Nightingale had disappeared in the Bat fashion, so she was nowhere to be found on any of the nearby roofs. She was probably sticking solely to the shadows in order to keep from having another fight.

He gave a defeated sigh and sat down on the edge of the roof to rest and take inventory of any of his wounds. Compared to the Nightingale, he was relatively unscathed. Only miscellaneous cuts, scratches, and bruises bombarded his body. He'd be good to go in the morning, albeit sore and tired.

_Why do I always act before I think?_ he pondered solemnly. _Now the Nightingale and whatever information she had is gone until who knows when. I've gotta find her or hope she'll find me, until then I'm screwed._

He ran a hand through his sweat laced and rain soaked auburn hair thoughtfully. He needed to plan something for tomorrow now that he had a goal. He needed to find the Nightingale.

_Maybe I oughta compare notes with Aqualad; the team might have something I don't._

* * *

><p>Nightingale felt like curling up in a ball and sleeping for a week. Her body felt so ragged that it took any energy she had left to move on. She'd expanded quite a bit of reserve energy, adrenaline, and whatever was left of her fumes during her fight, so trekking back to the orphanage was <em>so<em> much harder.

With a last effort for now, she vaulted from the air and onto a corner rooftop. Her breath was laboring in her throat, and her heart was beating so hard that it could have leapt from her chest if it desired to, and her muscles strained and protested to get her home. Her body could only tolerate so much stress in one night, and her home was still some blocks away.

Before seating herself on the roof's edge, Gale scanned her surroundings. The near successful assassination attempt had her on high alert. To her knowledge, Scourge nor Cheshire had escaped and followed her, but she wasn't too keen on finding out if they had by dying.

Once she deemed the coast clear, she plopped down with her back against the waist-high barrier that fenced in the rooftop.

_Why? Oh,_ why _does anything this crazy always happens on a school night?_ she thought, miserably remembering the torturous tutelage that was a head of her. _I doubt something sort of the flu would get Mr. Mathews to let me stay home._

She could almost feel her conscious slip into the dream world as she sat there. Nightingale was well aware that she required rest, but it wouldn't be there. If it hadn't have rained but perhaps thirty minutes ago and if it had been summer, she might have considered napping there for a while. But the conditions wouldn't allow for that. She was weary and she could feel herself catching a cold.

She needed to get out of her uniform and into her own warm bed.

_What a crazy night I've had? And to think the week is only at the middle of it all,_ she thought before collecting what strength she had left and starting her trek again.

If she weren't in the unfortunate portion of Daleville, she would have used a fire escape and walked back to the orphanage after she'd shed her cowl. It would have been easier than strenuously leaping over alley ways and sprinting across rooftops. But it was too dangerous on the ground, but probably not as dangerous as it was up on the rooftops.

Surprisingly the orphanage was located on the fringe of the unfortunate part of Daleville. To her it was not the ideal location for a home for abandoned or family-less children, but it suited her just fine. She could come and go easily from her patrols if she didn't decide to trek all over Daleville in a night. But such a night had been this one and she'd be hard pressed to not immediately go in and sleep without even taking off her boots.

_Almost there, just a little bit further,_ she told herself while forcing a burst of speed to come on. As fast as her body would allow in its given state, she ran diagonally across a rooftop, used the wall around it for an extra boost on height, and let the air encompass her.

Gravity was strong on her body and at the moment her ally. She let her body fall a little further than normal before grabbing her whip and casting it into the air. Without fail it caught hold of a rooftop corner and let her swing like a pendulum across the intersection.

When she landed, she spotted Burney's newsstand just below her.

_I wonder what Burney's expressions would be like if he saw me right now?_ she wondered while heading off towards the orphanage. It was only two or three blocks from the newsstand, so she wasn't extremely far from her destination.

Nightingale only allowed her thought process to focus on her destination. Her body and mind were faltering and she needed to focus.

Of course, it didn't take long to arrive at her destination, but to Gale, it felt like eternity had passed before she'd vaulted onto the orphanage rooftop.

_Finally, I'm home._ She smiled softly at the thought. She ventured to rub her shoulder to see how well it was getting along, but winced at even the softest touch.

_Probably not the best idea at present,_ she thought as she carefully peeled some of her torn shirt away to inspect it. _Doesn't seem too bad, probably could leave that until tomorrow._

Without a second thought about what medical care she required, Gale started carefully down the fire escape, only using gymnastics to descend as little as possible.

Quietly she alighted on her fire escape and jimmied the window opened softly. She'd rather avoid Amanda seeing her in this battle damaged of a state.

Since the rain and wind had ceased the window wouldn't let in any noise, she supposed that Amanda wouldn't be waking up any time soon, if she wasn't already up. But the second possibility seemed unlikely since the bed belonging to her friend's bed had a form shrouded by covers sprawled out on it.

_Hope she slept alright, she had a right to worry tonight, but still she ought to at least get more sleep than me,_ Briana thought as she closed the window securely and slipped off her cowl.

The only article of her costume Briana actually put away was her cowl. Unceremoniously, she placed her sleeveless hooded sweat shirt, long-sleeved shirt, and black jeans on the chair in front of her desk. Her combat boots she put in their usual hiding place in the closet.

_Note to self: move those things when I get up, doesn't matter if they're not dry,_ she ordered herself.

Briana grabbed the towel she'd gotten before her patrol and began to dry off her body and hair, but only for a brief minute. She felt too exhausted to do anything else at the moment.

Neglecting to change into her pajamas, Briana burrowed into bed and pulled all her bed-clothes into one heap around her. In but a few minutes, she was fast asleep.

* * *

><p>To say that Robin loved his cape would have been an understatement, especially after a rainy night in Daleville. Some of his teammates had had to sit out in the cold weather, namely Wally who'd complained like there wasn't going to be a dawn.<p>

From the way Artemis scolded a complaining Kid Flash, Robin assumed that she wasn't appreciating the weather. Ms. Martian, Superboy, and Aqualad were luckiest of the team though; they were either immune to the cold weather or had methods of deterring it.

_Wonder how the Nightingale is dealing with this weather,_ Robin mused to himself as he scanned the surrounding areas. Though he wanted to go off and search Daleville for the Nightingale, he didn't. He needed to wait, because if the team were to be attacked, they'd need him.

For a time he'd spent the uneventful hours looking up just what else the Nightingale fought in this town. She evidently had her own rogues gallery. Neil O'Hare was a businessman with a good standing reputation in the town despite the apparent fact that he was a smuggler. Along with O'Hare, the smuggler also had something to back up his work such as a lackey or something of that nature. Whatever it was, some police reports stated that it had fought the Nightingale a couple of times.

Unfortunately, that was the only person or persons whom he could find through documentation. Anyone else the Nightingale fought was behind the scenes and very shadowy. She'd probably know everything in her town better than the police or any private eyes in Daleville.

"Question_: when are we gonna leave?_" Artemis asked after an extensive argument with Kid Flash. "_Nothing's happened, and I'll be_ very _surprised if something does happen._"

Aqualad sighed. "_You're correct, if nothing has happened just yet, then it is likely that nothing will happen at all. But I am concerned. Commissioner Travis left here in such a hurry. I can't help, but wonder if something is wrong._"

"_Think we should wait another hour or less?_" Robin suggested.

"_No, not another hour, but waiting a little longer would be wise,_" Aqualad conceded, much to the relief of some of the team.

Robin may be a bird of the night quite often, but even he felt tired though he'd never show it.

He pulled his cape closer to him as he sat in the shadows. The rain may have receded, but the cold had taken its place.

_The Nightingale hasn't made an appearance,_ he thought. _I guess I wouldn't be surprised if she had something to do with the commissioner's departure, but what exactly did she do?_

* * *

><p><em>The Nightingale's been here that's for sure, but how'd she cause this?<em> Travis wondered as he looked through scorched debris. The ship yard was being scanned by Daleville's finest, but they'd found not even a tail feather belonging to the Nightingale.

However she'd escaped the bon fire that had inflamed one of the crates, they didn't know. She'd escaped though, and evidently Neil O'Hare blamed the vigilante for the fire.

Travis didn't believe a _word_ of that crap. It wasn't in the Nightingale's nature nor past actions to be an arsonist. Not without a good cause.

If the Nightingale ever did something _that_ disastrous, Travis doubt that Mr. O'Hare, known as Ship Rat behind his back, would have brought it to the police. The vigilante never took action without a reason and there was no reason for her to have torched a crate, so Travis doubted that she'd done it.

"Commissioner Travis, you _must_ catch that juvenile delinquent freak. She needs proper punishment, she caused me and many others enough property damage. She must be brought to justice," wheezed Mr. O'Hare in his unique accent.

"We'll try, but it's _damn_ near impossible for us to find her _and keep_ her in one place for more than thirty seconds," Travis replied while jotting his thoughts down on his notepad. He wanted to laugh at Mr. O'Hare ranting; they'd been after Ship Rat for years. Everyone in Daleville knew that Ship Rat was a criminal and now to be helping him was irony.

"And you're supposed to be Daleville's _finest_!" retorted Ship Rat.

"Mr. O'Hare," Travis said, and looked pointedly up from his notes and down at the smaller man. "Have you ever tried to hold a live fish before, _hmm_?"

"…. Well now but what has fish to do with the Songbird of Daleville?"

Travis decided to refrain from answering that question. "While you're holding a fish that's alive, it's doing _everything_ in is weak power to escape your grip. Plus it's scaly, _slimy_, _and_ wet. Not only is it struggling, but it's extremely hard to grip. So instead of holding the fish, you're just trying to make sure it doesn't slip from your grip and get back into the water, which happens a _lot_. That's how it is with the Nightingale. She's too impossible to keep in one place at any given time."

Mr. O'Hare gave him a blank faced stare, but Travis seemed to have gotten his point across. Even if he hadn't, Travis wouldn't have cared, he just closed his notepad and stuck it into his pocket.

"So the Nightingale just snuck in here and decided to set this, and _only_ this, crate on fire? Why?" Travis changed the subject to a topic more relevant.

"Yes, that's what happened. She came in here and set this particular crate on fire," he echoed.

"Why?"

"I don't know why. She did it though; she set the contents of that crate on fire. That damn bird does everything without a reason," ranted Ship Rat.

"_Uh-huh_, and just what _exactly_ was in this crate? If we knew what was in it we might be able to find a motive. The Nightingale often has a reason for everything she does, and I wouldn't be surprised if she's got one now," Travis reasoned.

"I'll have to get the paperwork for that one; so much comes through this port that it's hard to keep track of everything," Ship Rat said that thoughtfully before leaving mumbling this or that under his breath.

"Yeah, you have a hard time keeping track of that, it's _very_ convenient," Travis mumbled to himself. For the Ship Rat it was convenient to misplace – probably shred – paperwork.

_For what rhyme or reason would Nightingale torch a crate? It doesn't make any sense,_ Travis questioned himself. _The Nightingale just doesn't do something like that without a reason. She doesn't. So either there was something in this box that she doesn't want in Daleville or something … else happened here._

Travis began to amble the debris inspecting this or that.

"What do you think of this, Trav?" a police man asked as he approached. Only one person on the police force called him that no matter what was happening, and that person would be Detective Flynn, his brother.

"Well, I think the Nightingale has had a midnight weenie roast," Travis joked good-naturedly. "A _really_ big weenie roast. What do you think of it?"

"I think … I don't know what to think. I don't believe that the Ship Rat's telling the truth, and I also don't believe that the Nightingale is capable of this sort of thing, even if she is the vigilante," replied his brother.

Travis sighed. "I'd agree with you, but I don't know what else to think of this. I don't see any other option. She was here and who else would've done it?"

"That's why you're the commissioner, and I'm the detective," Flynn answered. "Things are not always _that_ obvious. What we're looking at isn't any exception."

"_Oh_, you've got something?" Travis knew that Flynn was one of the best detectives the force had. If his brother thought something was more than meets the eye, then Travis knew that there was something worth investigating.

He'd learned that as a child when he'd tagged along with Flynn and Anthony Thomas. The three of them usually wound up in trouble, but it'd be fun and they sometimes found stuff that needed finding. If - more accurately _when_ - they got into trouble, Anthony would often talk them out of a situation. Travis could always see why Anthony had been a wonderful lawyer and for that he was sorely missed.

"'_Something'_ might just be the proper word to describe this," replied Flynn, carefully plucking an odd chard shaft like pole. The shaft was extremely burnt, but one could see that it came to a point and didn't belong.

"What do you think it is?" Travis questioned while he and Flynn examined it briefly before putting it into a plastic examination bag.

"I honestly don't know, and before you ask for speculation, I'll tell you that I don't know any idea just yet," his brother responded. "But it definitely doesn't belong here, nor is it likely the Nightingale's."

"Someone else's thingamabob?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."


	32. Omelet Discussions

**Omelet Discussions **

**Gotham City, Connecticut**

**3:34 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Robin arrived at the Batcave ready to sleep. The night had been boring and unfruitful to say the least. No Shadows had appeared and the Nightingale probably wasn't even lurking around S.T.A.R. Labs. To make matters worse, the only real clue he had as to the identity of the Nightingale was a failed list of who the vigilante could be and likely wasn't.<p>

The Batcave was its usual echo-y self with water dripping, bats giving off their usual chirps and cries, and the machinery emitting the soft whirling sound. It didn't seem as though Bruce was anywhere nearby, so he hoped to avoid the Batman for a few hours.

He slipped off his costume and placed it back in the special case it was kept in. Once back in his casual attire, Dick headed towards the stairs leading to the mansion.

Dick crept quietly through the cave and towards the exit. Even if Bats didn't seem to be near, he didn't want to risk finding that he was mistake.

"How did the mission go?" a deep voice intoned and Dick froze.

The desk chair at the computer swiveled around to reveal Batman sitting with his cowl off.

"It was _hilarating_," he replied with a shrug.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, indicating that he wanted Dick to elaborate.

"If you take the E-X off 'exhilarating' you get 'hilarating', the opposite of exhilarating," Dick explained.

"What happened?"

He sighed softly in defeat; there was no way to avoid briefly telling his mentor what happened. He'd have to tell of the progress in finding the Nightingale, or rather the lack of.

"_Technically_, nothing happened. S.T.A.R. Labs was perfectly safe, but Commissioner Travis did have to leave early. Guess something happened in Daleville that required him," he answered, still attempting to forgo answering anything pertaining to the Nightingale.

"And your investigation? Where has that led you?"

_Couldn't avoid it forever, besides he probably already knows,_ Dick thought before answering, "The investigation turned into a bunch of dead ends. Anyone we thought to be the Nightingale turned out to be like any other citizen of Daleville, some more misfortunate than others."

"How many young ladies did you shadow?"

Of course, Bats would know that he and Zatanna and Wally and Artemis tailed more than one person throughout the previous day.

"Three, or four if you count the one that Roy watched, but they all brought the same results: nothing," he lamented. "I still have a list of possible suspects, but I'm planning on revising it. I probably missed something vital."

"Let me see the list," ordered his mentor. Dick merely tapped a few commands in his wrist watch-like mini-computer and the file was immediately uploaded to the Bat computer.

Bruce swiveled the chair around and quickly accessed the file. Instead of the usual ten second look over, it took Bruce a whole forty-five seconds to scan the list.

Dick would have normally gone up stairs and to bed while Bruce critiqued the material that had complied over the day, but since Bruce took longer to analyze the short list he thought it worthwhile to wait around.

"Which one did Roy shadow?" Bruce asked without turning around to face him.

"Briana Thomas, but she couldn't possibly be the Nightingale," Dick responded casually.

"And the others could be?" Bruce questioned with a tone that implied he wanted Dick's reasoning behind his thoughts.

"Yeah, all the others are in or have had gymnastics training. Briana … not so much, from what I've seen she probably hasn't set a foot in the local gymnastic center. The only qualifications she has for the vigilante position is her academics," he supplied. "She's a few grade levels above her age group, but that's about it for the most part."

"Roy shadowed her?"

"Correct, Roy and Zatanna shadowed her for part of the day. I haven't heard anything from Roy just yet, but Zatanna said that Briana Thomas was absolutely normal. Though the girl's friend, Amanda Martin, she seems to be a person of interest."

Dick waited for Bruce to respond. He knew that his mentor always had something to say in order to critique him. He always knew that there was something that could have room for improvement.

"Keep your investigation up, the Nightingale needs to be found soon. She's a vital component in this and it'll be your responsibility, and remember things aren't always as they seem." With that the Batman stalked off to finish up the nightly patrol.

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**4:47 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Anxiety can wake people at untimely hours if it's really bad, Amanda knew this well and sometimes it was useful to her and others it was extremely annoying. Waking up between the hours of eleven and two were fine, because the chances of catching the Nightingale returning from patrol were rather high, though the songbird was known to remain out later than that. But after that time, Amanda preferred to sleep and if she was awakened, she'd rather be woken due to noise as opposed to her own fears.<p>

Sullenly, she rolled over, wondering what time it was while she shook off an absurd and irrational nightmare. From some weird reason, her anxieties produced the weirdest dreams known to human kind.

She groped and finally the small wrist watch she had. It was practically useless in most of its normal uses, because the strap had broken last summer. But the Velcro strap could be hooked around the head-board and the light still worked.

Pressing the button to activate the small light, Amanda found that it was only four, nearly five in the morning.

She groaned in dismay. It was too early to get up and beat the shower rush, but it was too late to sit around and wait for that time to come.

_Great, might as well get some more shut-eye,_ she thought moodily. But before she rolled back into a comfortable position, she sat up and looked at the bed adjacent to her own.

Curled in a ball of blankets and sheets was Briana. As her eyes slowly became accustom to the lack of light, Amanda saw a sight abnormal. The Nightingale's uniform was lying on the desk chair and what looked like a puddle of water was surrounding it.

_Is that a tear?_ Amanda got out of bed and crept over to the uniform. Evidently, Briana had left it out to dry, however that seemed ineffective at best.

But that wasn't what made Amanda more concerned than usual. On the shoulder of the long-sleeved shirt was a gaping tear. It wasn't slit like the usual tears that were mainly inflicted by knives; it appeared to be more ragged than usual. The cut in fabric was like, yet unlike, a tear in jeans when one skids their knee.

Amanda carefully put her hand in the hole and assessed it through touch. It wasn't normal; absolutely, positively uncommon among the usual repairs that had to be made in the Nightingale's clothing.

_Oh, God, Briana what happened?_ she wondered with a sickening feeling in her gut. Though she probably would never get the information on what happened during that patrol anytime soon, she had to wonder what had happened. It was her obligation as a best friend to worry about something like that.

With a sigh, she walked back to her bed knowing that a few restless hours would follow, but it wouldn't come quite yet.

A low, nearly inaudible whimper emitted from the burrowed Briana as the bird girl shifted. Amanda frowned at the sound. She refused to wake Briana up. The kid already was active at ungodly hours of the night, so it was necessary for her to get all the sleep out of part of the night as she could.

Amanda knew that there were two common causes that Briana slept restlessly. One: it was prior to the Nightingale's patrol. Briana was always a light sleeper before her patrol because she'd trained herself to get up at indecent times to do a hero's work. The other option was a less welcome one.

The second option was pretty much one of two combined into one. Restless sleep was a sign of a nightmare or an indication that Briana was becoming sick, or as often as not, both.

Limply, Briana's arm and head appeared from under sheets as she shifted. Even in sleep, Amanda could see the tell-tale signs of a weary night.

"What the _hell_ happened, Bree?" Amanda whispered softly. On Briana's arm was a slowly bleeding gash that spread over the upper arm like a shoulder pad. Amid the scabbing blood, she could see that the purple design of a bruise becoming visible. "That looks way _too_ painful."

It was the oddest wound that Amanda had ever seen, and that was saying something. Ever since Amanda had discovered the identity of the Nightingale, she'd insisted on helping out by patching the bird girl up when she could. Of late, Briana was doing that herself, but there were moments such as this when Amanda would bandage up the vigilante.

Unfortunately, that meant waking Briana up tonight.

"Bree …. _Bree_, you _gotta_ wake up," she said softly. "Briana, you've gotta wake up."

It probably wouldn't take that much to rouse Briana in this state, but of it did Amanda would resort to waking her up earlier than normal to bandage up the kid in the morning.

"_Wha_ …. _What_ is, 'manda?" the bird girl mumbled with a groggy tone in her voice.

"How does your arm feel?" she questioned, while taking a seat on the bed.

"You're _such_ a morning person, aren't you?" Briana answered. She seemed hardly awake and probably wouldn't really remember how she'd gotten a bandage, but Amanda didn't really care. "What time is it?"

"Don't matter, how does your arm feel?"

"_Lousy_."

"Looks that way too. Do you want me to put something on it?"

"No and yes. No, 'cause it really hurts. And yes, because it oughta be bandaged."

"The correct answer is _'yes'_, Briana. The Nightingale has to stay in perfect shape, and that includes getting bandaged up when needed."

"Yeah, well, that'd also include getting a decent amount of sleep," Briana retorted, but sat up expectantly.

"_Uh-huh_, and bleeding on your sheets helps keep your I.D. a secret?" Amanda took out the disused medical kit from the closest, and opened it.

_I'll need disinfectant wipes and a big band-aid,_ she thought while taking out the supplied needed.

"This might take a minute and for sure it's _gonna_ be painful," Amanda warned, but Briana just turned to stare thoughtfully out the window.

Without further ado, Amanda began to clean the wound. It was definitely more peculiar than any other scrape or cuts she'd cleaned up, it almost seemed to be two wounds one on top of the other. Knowing what Briana did, it probably was that way.

Briana winced every once in a while, but made no further indications of how she really felt. Amanda knew, however, that the pain was pretty bad.

"How on earth did you get this one, Bree?" Amanda questioned as she carefully put the band-aid on.

"You don't want to know," Briana answered with a cold, hollow tone to her voice.

Amanda just nodded. When Briana said that she did not want to know then she probably didn't want to know until much later. Often Briana would avoid the question by saying something along the lines of _I'll tell you later_.

"Patrol did go too well?" she inquired instead. Briana could very well answer _that_ question if she didn't want to go into detail.

"I wouldn't put it that way, but yeah, it didn't go too well," Bree responded with a shrug, before curling back into a ball.

Amanda took the cue and put the medical kit back before doing the same.

"Amanda?" Briana softly mumbled.

"What, Bree?" she responded slightly grumpy. Of course, she wanted to get some sleep it was far too early for her.

"Could you get Ms. Patsy to make me a cup of tea with breakfast?" he friend requested.

Ms. Patsy was the cook for the orphanage who came over before meal times to make the food. Though she didn't talk much to them, Ms. Patsy did have a kind heart, and would fix something special for them if they needed it. Somehow, Briana was able to converse more with her than anyone else in the orphanage, so Briana sometimes got some special components among the meals that were served.

"Sure, but why do you want tea? Isn't coffee your favorite caffeine full drink?"

"I think I'm gonna need it, that's all."

* * *

><p>"<em>Damn<em> my Circadian rhythm," Stephen muttered as he regretfully opened his eyes to see that ceiling of his room. He'd been trying for the last thirty minutes to go back to sleep, but to no avail. He was awake, and that was that.

He'd gotten so used to waking up before the sun to prepare for his job that he'd woken up naturally. He hated it. If he had to be on suspension, he'd rather be asleep than spending a free moment awake. If sleep could preoccupy his uneventful free time then he'd appreciate it, because he had nothing better to do.

All his friends were off at college in another city or off to their jobs. The only one who might have stuck around Daleville was now stuck there in a state inaccessible to him. Stephen was stuck with nothing to do.

Inevitably, he'd end up babysitting his baby brother Peter. Not that he didn't like his little brother or anything; he just hardly had any common ground with his siblings anymore. Actually, it'd always been that way.

He was nearly a teenager by the time Johnny was born, and he'd been in his early twenties when Peter came into being. He'd always been older when his siblings had come into his life. The only younger kid that he'd ever actually been close to was Briana, or at least he had been.

He scoffed slightly at the remembrance of Briana. Oddly, he was probably closer to Briana than he'd ever been to Johnny and that was even after the years of avoiding her at all costs.

He may not have conversed with her for at least seven years and she may be thirteen going on fourteen in a few days, but he still knew her, if she hadn't changed that much.

_Wonder just how much she _has _changed, something like that has to change a person. We wouldn't be human if something that tragic didn't change us,_ Stephen pondered as he turned to stare out his window.

The fleeting clouds were fleeing from the approaching sunrise, disappointingly his window faced south so he'd be unable to witness a gorgeous sunrise.

"I'm not going to be falling asleep anytime soon," Stephen muttered to himself before rolling out of bed. He slipped his sweat pants over his boxers and pulled on a hoodie.

As he opened his door and headed to the kitchen, he tucked his cuffs in his sleeves. He liked his sleeves that way, and often they were in his way if he didn't position them like that.

The kitchen would have the supplies he needed to make breakfast for himself. If he was going to be up so early, he may as well make himself something to eat.

_Bet Mom's got the ingredients enough to make an omelet or something,_ Stephen thought as he mentally took inventory of the Miles' fridge. _Yep, she does and then some._

He selected the needed ingredients, and set them on the counter. Onions, tomatoes, some left over hash browns, and of course ham was among the ingredients.

Absentmindedly, Stephen carefully cooked his breakfast. If he'd really wanted to he'd have made his breakfast in fifteen minutes, but when he had a need to kill time he'd take his time thinking.

He'd often practiced thinking while cooking (more often burning) meals when his mom had taught him the simplest form of culinary arts. His mom had wanted him to at least have some idea of how to make a meal for himself when he left home, which had yet to happen.

While this habit did cost him time, it didn't matter today. He'd have nothing better to do with his morning than cook.

Unfortunately, he had few subjects on him mind that abundantly interested him. Most, if not all, the topics that had been floating around his brain were ones that distressed him or angered him.

Stephen, after digesting Travis's reason, understood why he'd been suspended for a while, but it was not appreciated at all. He disliked having absolutely nothing to do, even before he'd been a cop, he'd busied himself with photography. On weekends and during passing periods, he'd take snap shots of the activities around him.

_Maybe I could see if those cameras still worked, especially if Daleville looks nice today,_ Stephen mused. _It'd be better than just sitting around here._

"You do realize your omelet is burning, don't you, Stephen?" a voice interrupted his thoughts bringing a crisp smell along with it.

"Oh …. Oh, good grief!" Stephen hurriedly removed the blackened eggs, onions, and ham from the pan and set it on a plate.

"Don't worry, Stephen," said his mom. "It's salvageable."

"Thanks, Mom," he tiredly mumbled while beginning to eat his meal. "Do you need any help?"

His mom was beginning to use the ingredients that he'd left out to make her own omelet.

"No thank you, besides we don't want Johnny's or your father's meals extra crispy, they _despise_ blackened eggs," she replied.

His mom was a petite woman with light brown locks and freckles sprinkled all over her face. Her kind and caring personality was radiant as ever even at the earliest of hours. How she managed to be such a god mother and yet still work, he'd never know.

Stephen had inherited a mixture of both his parents. While Johnny carried a heavier mixture of their mother, and little Peter … well they had yet determine who the youngest Miles looked like the most.

"What's on your mind, Stephen?" asked his mother after some time of silence.

Stephen took a moment to swallow his crisp omelet before answering: "I was just debating whether or not to see if any of my cameras still work and go on a photo walk."

"Let me rephrase that, what's _been_ on your mind? … Don't give me that look, Stephen, I'm your mother, I know when something is bothering you."

He sighed, consenting to defeat. "Briana."

That was all he wanted to say. A lot of things had been on his mind. The Nightingale, his suspension, and so much more had danced around his clouded thoughts, but he supposed that bothered him the most.

"Isn't she one of Johnny's friends?"

"And Brian's little sister."

His mom stopped stirring the egg mixture and turned to face him. Brian wasn't mentioned all that often by anyone who'd been old enough to fully understand what had happened to the Thomas family and Briana was rarely remembered as Brian's younger sister.

"How is that bothering you?" she asked slowly. "She's been friends with Johnny for years and it's only now that her relation to Brian is relevant."

His mom gave him a confused look and, to be honest, Stephen was confused as to why _that_ was bothering him just now. He'd mostly ignored Briana whenever she'd come over and she'd stood her distance as well. Heck, they rarely acknowledged the other's existence at times.

He made an effort to make sure that Briana was somewhere else when he'd got to visit Brian's grave. He hardly ever wanted to see her, so he could really comprehend why it bothered him just now.

"I don't know," he moodily replied. "It _just_ is."

"Is anything in particular upsetting you?" His mom had set the bowl of churned eggs on the counter and transitioned to sitting in a chair beside him.

"No, not really, I just started thinking about Short Round after Johnny mentioned that it'd be her birthday this Saturday."

"Short Round?" He got the usual questioning look that was used to ask for elaboration when he used a word unknown to his parents.

Stephen merely smiled at the nickname for Briana. "_Yeah_, it's an inside joke."

His mom nodded. "So, why did Johnny mention that it'd be her birthday?"

"He just was wondering if I've ever taken pictures for her birthday. Don't know why he'd ask, since it's got nothing to do with what he's planning for Short Round's birthday."

"And what exactly is Johnny doing for _Briana's_ birthday?" she stressed, clearly wishing that he'd start referring to Briana by her real name.

"Johnny's planning as surprise party for _Briana_ along with his other orphanage friend, Amanda. I haven't got the slightest clue what they'll do. But I hope they succeed. Briana's a hard one to surprise, trust _me_, Brian and I tried." Stephen smiled fondly at the numerous times they'd failed to scare Briana. They'd only succeeded a few times, and they'd had to be really sneaky to do so.

"I hope they do too. I'll have to see if Johnny needs any help."


	33. Unanswered Questions

**Unanswered Questions**

**Gotham City, Connecticut**

**6:00 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Tired was <em>not<em> the description Artemis would have used to describe how she felt as she dragged herself out of bed. Exhausted would be the correct term. She may have been trained to sleep _less_ than the average human, but the amount she'd had was _too_ little for her to function very well.

"Artemis, get up, the early bird gets the worm and _you're_ definitely not early," her mother ordered from her doorway before wheeling away.

"_Argh_!" Artemis growled exasperatedly into her pillow. She rolled over and saw her heavy knapsack leaning against the nightstand where she'd left it. It only served to remind her that her homework was anything but done.

The mission had taken all her extra time so she was a day behind in her studies, and being a day behind while going to Gotham Academy was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

**Daleville, Connecticut **

**6:13 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Briana reluctantly woke. The sun shining in from her window might herald a brand new <em>and<em> wonderful day, but _she_ felt _miserable_. She definitely had caught something more than information and a villain on her patrol.

To _add_ insult to sickness, she was sore all over. Not a muscle seemed to be have been spared. Her body ached and part of her wanted to protest getting out of bed at all that day.

"_Bree_, get _up_! Ms. Patsy has you tea ready."

Out of the corner of her eye, Briana noticed Amanda poke her head into the room momentarily to see if her wakeup call had worked. Briana rolled over again to signal to her best friend that she was awake.

She let out a muffled groan as she hauled her partially exhausted form out of the comforting bed. The night had dealt her a rough hand and her body and mind were muscling through a brick wall to go into the morning head on.

_Time to wake up, Bree,_ she told herself in a mumble before stretching in a few quick exercises. Her body protested and her mind was fogged by heavy morning grogginess.

Briana scanned to room, remembering that she'd left her uniform out to dry if that was possible. Surprisingly, it wasn't where she'd left it. A puddle of water surrounded the desk chair all the same, but her shirt, pants, and sweater had vanished.

She smiled and thoughtfully opened the closest door. As she'd guessed, Amanda had put her sopping clothing in a pile of dirty laundry.

_Leave it to Amanda to be a mother hen,_ she thought, appreciatively. Her best friend was just looking out for her.

Hmm_ … shower rush hasn't begun just yet, so tea first shower later,_ she thought as she grabbed her watch off the desk and looked at the time.

Before going down to breakfast, Briana grabbed her favorite hoodie and pulled on a pair of sweat pants. Normally, she would have taken the time to pull her shoes on, but she hurried down to the mess hall to get her tea and a meal instead.

Not many people were up at the time. Not many people wanted to be up at that time, and Briana was one of them. Even for those who had more sleep than she looked tired, and that didn't include Amanda.

Groggily, she stepped into the line of mostly younger kids who had the energy to get up that early.

"Ah, Briana," Ms. Patsy greeted her as she stepped into the kitchen. "Are you feeling well?"

Ms. Patsy was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever. She was an older lady with almost slate gray hair. The slender elderly woman always wore a dress for some reason beyond Briana's comprehension.

"Not really," she answered honestly, while trying to prohibit her nose from beginning to run. "I think I caught a cold or _something_."

Before Briana could ask for the tea, Ms. Patsy's hand flew to her forehead. The cool, gentle touch comforted Briana, but that was all it did.

Ms. Patsy may not have been in charge of the orphanage, but she sure knew how to purge a cold from someone's system. The method of determining a cold was exactly what she was doing, seeing if Briana's forehead was too hot.

"Hmmm …. You've got a slight cold, but it could get worse if you don't take care of it. Try to stay worm today." Briana was told before a tray of breakfast food was placed in her hands and a mug of tea was carefully set on her tray. She quickly stepped out of the kitchen and headed towards an empty table.

The mess hall was quiet and hardly anyone was there just yet, everyone was probably headed to the showers. She expected Amanda to join her before long, but she'd still have some time to herself, precious, valuable time to digest both food and thought.

As soon as she'd determined that her cold had dissipated a slightly, Briana's next action was to further attend to her arm.

There was a numb pain burrowing its way into her shoulder. Cautiously, she began to rub it, assessing exactly what pained her.

_That's one heck of a deep bruise,_ she thought, wincing every so often. Amanda's bandage had helped, why putting a band-aid on her wounds numbed the pain, Briana would never know. _I oughta have a good look at that later when I've got fewer worries. Why does so much have to happen on a school night?_

While she needed and sometimes enjoyed rehashing the events of her patrol on paper, she loathed anything too lengthy or too sketchy. Another patrol where nothing had been resolved and had only led to more questions wasn't something she particularly liked.

Normally, when things were complicated in Daleville, at the very least one or two questions would have been answered in a night. But this time, a question she hadn't entirely been asking was answered and another question only followed it.

_Why is Scourge working with those creeps? I guess I gave him too much credit when I thought he'd be smart enough to stay out of the big games until later in life,_ Briana moodily noted while taking the last sip of the honey-lemon tea Ms. Patsy had made for her. _The real question is now: why would lone demon Scourge work with the big leagues, especially when the end game doesn't necessarily involve me?_

She drummed her fingers against the table in frustrated thought. All she had witnessed or knew only resulted in having the thought equivalent of two jigsaw puzzles combined without a picture of either to make them. To make matters worse, she hadn't a piece fit together since the beginning of the week.

Briana sighed at the dissatisfactory results of her thought process. She'd need school time to jot down the events from her perspective of the patrol, and then time would have to be cut out of her homework hours to think further into the problems.

* * *

><p>Roy sighed deeply in contentment before rolling and accidentally onto the floor.<p>

_And why did I do that?_ he promptly thought in his groggy state of mind. Immediately, he climbed back into bed. After a day and a night all aimed at finding the Nightingale's identity and any other information she had all due to Bats saying she would be helpful during a surprise phone call, Roy had made sure to both unplug the land line in his hotel room and remove the battery from his cell phone, he didn't want another phone call from Batman nor did he know exactly what the technology said hero had was capable of.

To say it bluntly, Roy felt drop dead tired. The fight with and against the Nightingale had taken a lot out of him, and he wanted a full eight to ten hours of sleep to recover from the escapade.

But if he felt that bed, he had to wonder how the Nightingale felt. She looked like she'd had a lot more taken out of her before their fight and eventual team up, plus she hadn't come out of the events unharmed. She'd had a hell of a shoulder wound when she'd left.

Even if he did have some sympathy for her, he had to keep it to a minimal. He had to find her, especially after not receiving the information she had. Whatever she knew might just have been important to them and he needed to find her.

But before he could go find the Nightingale, he wanted to get at the very least ten hours of sleep of which he'd already had five or six of it. If he was even going to make progress in finding the Nightingale, he needed to have a sound mind.

Besides attempting, and hopefully succeeding, to find the Nightingale, he had to see if Kaldur had some time to spare and to compare notes with the team's leader. His best friend had to know something about the investigation, even if Robin was probably in charge of it.

* * *

><p>After having made sure Ms. Patsy's tea for Briana was ready, Amanda headed for the shower. She hadn't had breakfast just yet, it wasn't something she did before showering, but she would place and help prepare a special order for Briana.<p>

Amanda wasn't really one to be a maid or nanny, but since Briana hadn't even shifted when she'd gotten up Amanda saw no point in making a possibly ill friend clean up. Well really it'd been adding to a mess to hide the Nightingale's uniform but same difference, the uniform was hidden and that was that.

Showering was high on the morning priority list for her and Amanda always took one as quick as she could when she woke up. It made sure that she was awake enough to process everything to the best of her abilities.

Of course, being one of the first teenagers up, she had plenty of hot water to wake up to. While she would have _loved_ to indulge herself more than she should and take an elongated shower, but Amanda refrained, knowing that there were other, more moody occupants in the orphanage who desired hot showers, and she wasn't talking about Briana.

"You're got two minutes," someone ordered as they entered the bathroom. Amanda groaned; she knew exactly who it was.

"I'd like to see you take a five-minute shower, Silvia. Especially since you mandate that everyone else does while you occupy it for ten minutes at a time or more," Amanda hissed at the older girl in reply.

"Real beauty requires at the very least ten minutes to prepare, I need that time whereas you don't," Silvia replied. "Now, do hurry up."

Amanda was sad that she was almost done by the time she'd started arguing with Silvia, she would have liked to have made sure that the water was semi-warm for Silvia.

Amanda quickly got dressed and headed out of the bathroom. She wanted to circumvent anymore arguing with Silvia, because often the older girl would torture both her and Briana even if only one had angered her. While Bree had a cooler head about her when dealing with Silvia, Amanda didn't. Besides she'd rather not start a nice Wednesday with further argument.

"You feeling okay, Bree?" she asked as she entered their room. Briana was lying down in her bed with her head in her pillow.

To answer Amanda's question, Briana propped herself on the bed. "Yeah, I'm fine, it's just too early for me and last night was too long. Ms. Patsy said I had a cold, but I'll be okay."

"The tea any help?"

"Yeah, it oughta be, but it'll take at least a day to get my system back to normal and you know what Mr. Mathews sick policy is."

Amanda nodded. She knew that one practically had to be on their death-bed to stay home from school with Mr. Mathews in charge.

"What happened last night? You looked like you'd been through hell and back." She had to inquire _that_ again. Briana might have said that she didn't want to know, but if her best friend looked this bad and indicated that she also felt as bad as she looked then Amanda wanted to know what happened to see if there was anything she could do to help.

"Trust me, it was the equivalent of that or at least it was for me," Bree grumbled in reply. "But if my track record for the week keeps up, I've only entered and left the first leave of purgatory."

"_Uh-huh_, what happened, Bree? Scourge? That Cheshire assassin?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Don't ask, Amanda, it's safer right now if you don't know," Briana said in a serious tone. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you when it's safe."

"And when will that be?"

"As of right now, I don't know. But you'll definitely be the first to know when _that_ is."

Amanda bit her bottom lip. She knew that Bree's nightly endeavors often caused one to make enemies. Enemies that often wanted the Nightingale out-of-the-way indefinitely, and desired to harm the heroine in any way, shape, and form. She understood that she was in danger because she was Briana's friend, she probably understood that a whole lot better than Bree did. She had been a cop's kid after all.

But this was the first time that Briana had given her a verbal warning that being associated with her was a danger. Usually nothing _too_ dangerous bridged into Briana's daily life from the night life, the only dangerous connection really was Bree's train for her vigilante job by either hanging around with the parkour junkies who had a habitual problem with broking limbs, or gymnastic events that were rarely participated in.

This warning made Amanda nervous, but she quickly decided that she wouldn't let this get to her. Briana needed a calm confidant and she'd try to be just that even if she was internally panicking.

"Okay, but no matter how unsafe it is right now, you need to get ready for school. And be warned, Silvia is not in the best of moods this morning."

"I'll keep that in mind, and Amanda, I'll be fine. I'm not the only hero in Daleville dealing with this. I'm not alone, I was never alone."

* * *

><p>"Has forensics gotten that thingamabob by now?" Travis asked Flynn as they stepped into the car. After a long and oddly mixed boring-interesting night, Travis was tired. He'd abandoned S.T.A.R. Labs to the heroes when the Ship Rat incident came up. It was too weird to be coincidental <em>and<em> the Nightingale, she'd been there or so said the Ship Rat.

"Yeah, but we won't get anything until tomorrow," replied his brother as they drove off.

"We will?" That was odd. It often times took a bit of time for forensics to get the analysis done, too much time most of the time.

"Yeah, somehow whatever is happening in Daleville makes us top priority for those guys," Flynn answered.

"I suppose that's good."

"You _suppose_?" Flynn gave him a questioning look as they came to a stop light.

"Just how important do you think whatever we're trying to protect in S.T.A.R. Labs is?" he asked. He'd been wondering that for some time. S.T.A.R. Labs had to be important if the Justice League sent their sidekicks to check out and guard the lab, but just _what_ weren't they being told?

"You'd have better insight on that then me, Trav. You're the commissioner after all," Flynn answered. "But it's gotta be _pretty_ significant to someone if the Justice League sent their young team in to make sure that its safe. I guess they didn't trust the Nightingale to get the job done."

It was Travis turn to give his brother a questioning look. "You aren't starting to like the town's guardian angel, are you?"

"When this sort of stuff starts happening in Daleville you got to start wondering if we're capable of handling it all, even before the Nightingale came into the scene there was weird stuff happening that we never really solved, like the Thomas tragedy, and Ship Rat and his lackeys were in play already. He _wasn't_ the Nightingale's fault like everyone believes. The only town villain that might be here because of her _is_ Scourge, but he isn't anything that she can't handle," Flynn responded after a minute or so of thought.

"Yeah, the Nightingale isn't the reason for all the hell we run into only some of it." Travis sighed.

The car enveloped in silence again as they drove closer to Flynn's apartment. Travis was going to his brother's home for breakfast before going home to his own flat to get some shut-eye.

"Do you think the Ship Rat incident last night is related to what's going on with S.T.A.R. Labs?" he asked as they pulled into the parking garage.

"At this point, I think anything is possible."

**For all those who are wondering where this is chronologically. "Waking Up to a Brand New Day" through "And Far Into the Night" is Monday. "Far Into the Night" through "Which Flies Faster: Arrow or Bird" is Tuesday, and "They Fall in Line" to now is the beginning of Wednesday.**


	34. Just Past the Point of No Return

**Just Past the Point of No Return**

**Daleville, Connecticut **

**7:11 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Johnny awoke with anxiety, worry, and stress heavy on him. Nightingale hadn't come by his window at all, and she hadn't reassured him that she had other matter to attend to that night during school, not that he'd given her much of a chance. He was worried and he hated to think that his anger had prevented him from spending as much time as he could with a friend who willingly lived on borrowed time.<p>

As soon as he'd gotten dressed for school, he'd hurried to the kitchen to see if his mom or dad knew anything about the songbird's patrol. He was lucky that they were always so willing to talk about what had happened during the night, and where they were with finding the Nightingale's identity, but he had to be extremely careful not to seem over eager to at times such as this or Briana's cover was blown through the roof.

_Come on, Johnny, you need to calm down, you've got the job of keeping Briana's I.D. a secret and finding out anything and everything,_ he told himself to try to ease his bleak outlook on what could have happened on the songbird's patrol.

The morning felt awfully peacefully as he walked into the dining room.

Peter was running laps around the dinner table with his teddy bear on his shoulder, burning off some of the overflowing energy he always seemed to have. His Uncle Travis was sitting at the guest's place and joking quietly with his dad. Stephen had a moody expression combined with a mischievous one on his face as he playfully tried to grab the teddy bear off Peter's shoulders as he ran by. His mom was attempting to verbally get Peter to calm down while stirring a bowl of something.

"Johnny! Johnny! _Johnny_!" Peter squealed excitedly when he noticed him enter to room. The energetic child charged at him, teddy bear bouncing on his shoulders, and tackled him in the ceremonial greeting hug.

Johnny groaned slightly as he hoisted Peter and the teddy bear up in a tighter hug. "Morning to you _too_, early bird."

"Stepheen said that if you didn't get up soon you wouldn't have any grub," little Peter said in a conspiratorial voice. Johnny could see Stephen roll his eyes at Peter's comment, probably annoyed at both Peter's unintentional mispronunciation of his name and the fact that he'd told Johnny something he probably wasn't supposed to.

"You weren't supposed to tell him, Squirt," Stephen mumbled while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Then who else was _gonna_?" Peter retorted as Johnny put him down.

"You _really_ don't get the concept of a joke, do you?" Stephen responded with an exasperated sigh.

"So what's the 'grub' Peter was talking about?" Johnny asked when Peter contorted his face into a thinking look that looked rather comical.

"Its omelets today," his mother said handing him a plate with said breakfast dish on it.

"Thanks," Johnny happily said, digging into the compound of eggs vegetables, and meat.

"Don't thank me, Johnny," she told him. "It was Stephen's idea."

Stephen's expression immediately changed from moody to, oddly _enough_, sheepish. Johnny might not have known his brother very well, but he could see that Stephen didn't really want to be credited for breakfast.

"Ah … thanks?" Johnny offered.

"You're welcome, but I would have burnt it if I'd have cooked it, so it's Mom who's responsible for this," Stephen responded in a grumble.

"Hey, Uncle Travis, what's a nightingale?" little Peter asked and an awkward silence settled over the room.

It was usual for Peter to pick up on something that he shouldn't have by merely listening to the conversations going on around him. Normally it wouldn't be anything too personal, such as: "Does being a serial killer mean they kill cereal?" Those kinds of questions were easy to shake off and so was this question, but it just happened to be personal.

"A nightingale is a bird that sings at night," their mother said, snapping the awkward silence into submission and hopefully shaking off any further questions from Peter for now.

"No, what is _the_ Nightingale?" Peter stressed, making his question more specific.

"Why would you want to know?" their dad asked.

"'Cause you guys keep talking about it and Stepheen says, 'She's a-'" Peter innocently answered, but Travis was quick to cover his mouth.

"_Don't_ finish that sentence, we all know where it's going," Travis said calmly while giving a warning glare to Stephen.

"So what is _the_ Nightingale?"

"She's a superhero," Johnny sheepishly replied when no one else offered an answer. He would mind letting his family instill dislike of the Nightingale on younger brother, but since the opportunity presented itself when no one else would take it, Johnny took it. Briana at least needed some people in Daleville to like her even if no one else in his family appreciated her.

"So _the_ Nightingale is a girl?" Peter questioned, his face beaming at the word 'superhero'.

"What male in their right now would call themselves 'Nightingale'? If the Nightingale were a boy, she'd have called herself 'Nighthawk' or something like that," Stephen off-handedly mused aloud.

"So, _the_ Nightingale is a boy?"

"No, Peter, she's a girl as far as we know, and she's not exactly the best superhero out there either," said their father stressing the fact that the Nightingale was a vigilante and not a superhero without saying so.

"_Oh_ … does she mess up a lot?" the youngest Miles asked. Evidently, once Johnny heard the mention that the Nightingale was a superhero, Peter wouldn't believe that she was considered a bad guy.

"No, she's just not a good superhero, that's all," their mom said. "Johnny, Stephen mentioned that you and your friends are throwing a surprise party for Briana. Is there anything I could do to help you with that?"

Johnny was slightly taken aback by this quick change of subject. While it helped him along, it also caused a loose end. Peter was an innocent kid that hardly knew the meaning of surprise. They'd all found that out when Peter accidentally found the Christmas presents last year.

"Isn't Briana one of your friends from school?" Travis asked.

"Uh-huh. _Um_ … Amanda and I were wondering if you could make a chocolate chip cookie cake for the party this Saturday," he requested.

His mom gave him a quizzical look. "A cookie cake? Wouldn't you like a traditional cake for the part?"

"_Nah_, Mom, Johnny's right. A cookie cake is Briana's favorite or so I recall," Stephen said with shrug.

"Okay, are you guys gonna have anything else at the party? Ice cream or yogurt?" she questioned, obviously wanting to help him if she could.

"No, Amanda and I are going to buy something from some of the street vendors if we can."

His mom nodded. "Are you gonna be getting her anything?"

"Um …" Johnny started. He really wasn't sure of what they were getting for Briana, but they definitely had to get her something. "We're still working that one out."

She nodded again. "When you have it figured out, let me know, and I'll be able to get it for you."

"Thanks," he hardly managed to say. He was surprised that Stephen would have mentioned Briana's surprise birthday party to anyone, let alone their mother, but he was quite taken aback when his mom offered to help him.

It wasn't that she didn't normally do something like that, but Johnny hadn't expected her to agree to making a cake so easily for Briana. It confused him to no end, what kind of relationship did his parents have with the Thomas'? Before this week, he hadn't even known that there was one and all this new information had him curious.

"Johnny, don't you have to be getting to school right about now?" his dad asked interrupting his thoughts.

"Ah …. Oh, yeah, I do need to be going. See you guys later." With that Johnny put his half-finished plate of omelet by the sink and hurried to his room before scurrying out the door.

**Gotham City, Connecticut**

**7:37 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Dick stared thoughtfully at his breakfast. Of course, Bruce hadn't arrived yet, because he was the Batman and something was preoccupying his time.<p>

Today, he didn't mind that, it meant that he'd have time to go over his search for the Nightingale without having Bruce's critique of it.

He'd revised his list of people while trying to fall asleep, and it had shrunken considerably, but the fact still remained that he wasn't any closer to finding her identity. He may have been able to cross out a few of the names, but he was still at the same point as he was yesterday.

The list, while shorter, contained only one name that held his interest today: Briana Thomas.

He had determined that it wasn't likely that she was the Nightingale, but he hadn't removed her from the list.

He hadn't observed her so he had no idea if she could actually be the Nightingale. He'd only gotten a few minutes of conversing with her while she gave the tour of the auditorium the previous day and second-hand reports from Zatanna of the teen and he hadn't gotten anything at all from Roy. He couldn't be sure about her and something kept on nagging him about her.

He didn't know what, but it was as if she had something hidden under that academic, studious, and quiet personality that he'd seen and Zatanna had described further.

"While Master Bruce is unable to join us, he has informed me that he wishes you to go to school today. This time your ruse is a personal sick day," Alfred informed him as he set some more of his breakfast in front of him. "I hope you've completed your homework."

"Perfect," he grumbled as Alfred walked away. "I definitely not gonna make any progress on the investigation today … unless …."

Dick grabbed a piece of cinnamon toast that was on the plate in front of him before dashing off to the Batcave. He had an idea.

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**7:43 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Somehow Briana managed to drag her ragged and rugged form out of the orphanage. She and Amanda were some of the last stragglers out of the building as they headed to school. Unlike the younger kids, though, their high school wasn't that far away, so they could afford to leave a little late.<p>

Amanda wasn't particularly pleased that they had left late, but she wasn't complaining. Her best friend could probably see that she wasn't in the greatest condition.

As like most days, Johnny had arrived at the rendezvous point before them and was waiting for them with an impatient expression on his face.

"You know you're late when Burney's already setting up shop," Johnny remarked as they approached.

"Yeah, I kinda got that," Amanda replied. "But _someone_ decided to drag her feet through some mud."

"Guilty as charged," Briana said, mustering the happiest tone that she could and gave her friends a mock bow. She could see that past Johnny's calm exterior, he was worried and he probably had a right to be. He'd probably heard more about her night's exploits than Amanda had.

"_So_ you're the reason for the three musketeers being late for their daily morning meeting," Burney said jokingly to them. Why he referred to them as _that_, Briana didn't know, but she was sure that Burney hadn't read the book involving said characters before.

"Usually am," she answered with a shrug.

"Better get a watch then or you'll be late for your torture session," he retorted with a smile. "But before you go, Johnny have you heard anything about what the Nightingale did last night?"

Briana smiled knowingly to herself. She wouldn't put it past Burney to ask such a question at a better time, maybe they both would get some information that they wanted.

"No, why you ask?"

"Just wondering if the Songbird of Daleville actually did bother Ship Rat last night, guess I'll find out soon enough," Burney answered, a little put out that he didn't get to heard about the Nightingale. "You you how the _Daleville Harold_ hates the Nightingale."

"Yeah, I guess we all _will_." With that Johnny took the lead as they headed towards their high school.

They put a good fifty yards between them and the local superhero enthusiast before the questions were starting to come out at the unceremonious time of day.

"_So_ the songbird was bothering a certain _rat_, was she?" Amanda ventured the first question. "Well that certainly would explain the scraped shoulder, _if_ it had been a bullet wound."

Behind the jesting tone, she knew that Amanda was deeply concerned about her and suffices it to say, wouldn't give up on knowing what had happened even after Briana's two warnings.

"_Bullet_ wound?" echoed Johnny his voice resounding with shock, horror, and anxiety.

"_Guys_," Briana hissed in an exasperated tone. "Could we _please_ drop it? It's not a safe topic right now."

"But, Briana, if you were bothering Ship Rat you could've been seriously hurt. That guy's can be ruthless," Johnny stated expressing a well-known fact that both of them knew a little too well.

"I _know_, Johnny, _I_ know," she answered in a defeated tone. "But I'm _not_ about to quit, and both of you, don't act like you weren't about to try to talk me out of this one, because I know you both too well to know that you were."

"But why, Briana? _Why_?" Amanda stressed in a quiet tone. "Just Monday night, you fought our resident nut job Scourge, _then_ Robin the Boy Blunder, and now what is it Bree? You're gonna get yourself arrested this week or worse."

"You _fought_ Robin?" Johnny gave her a look that was an odd mixture of concern, awe, respect, and confusion.

"_Yes_." Briana pinched the bridge of her nose in concentration. She commended her friends for their loyalty and concern, but she needed them to drop the topic. Who knows what Cheshire or some other assassin might do to them just to get her attention?

"Look, I know that both of you are _really_ worried about me and thank you for that, I _don't_ know what I'd do without you guys, but I _can't_ stop now," she stated in a serious tone that somehow commanded their attention. "I _can't_ stop now, because I am one of the few people who know just how much is at risk right now. I can't _just_ hide somewhere and hope for the best at this point. I've hit the point of no return for this mission, both literally and figuratively. You're both cops' kids; you ought to know how that is."

Amanda and Johnny fell silent at this. She could sense that she'd struck a chord, a nerve, but it was the one that she hadn't wanted it to be.

For Amanda, it probably stirred haunted memories, ones that she might not want to remember. Briana knew that feeling all too well, and regretted saying that, but she'd needed to see a point across.

For Johnny, she would bet that it stirred up all the anxieties of knowing that your family members could lose their lives at any moment, and were still willing to do that. Being friends with, and knowing who the Nightingale was probably amplified that more than needed, but all of them had made that choice, the choice that, should the situation arise, their lives were forfeit for those of others.

"_Alright_, Bree," Amanda said, being the first to spring back like she usually was. "So what do you need help with?"

"For starters, I need both of you to drop all Nightingale related conversations for the time being," Briana replied good-naturedly, and with the most reassuring smile that she could.


	35. Brink of Discoveries

**Brink of Discoveries**

**Daleville, Connecticut **

**8:09 A.M. EDT **

* * *

><p>Amanda filtered slowly through the book on the Scandinavian culture and heritage. She had yet to call her grandparents in that nursing home in California, she planned to do it that afternoon or possibly the next. It wouldn't be that hard to get into the files that Mr. Mathews kept on every kid in the orphanage, the phone number would definitely be in there.<p>

Though she doubted she was Norwegian or some other country in that area, she had to look like she was doing something.

Mr. Raven may let them slept through his lecture, but he evidently didn't let them sleep through the time that they were working on their projects. The history teacher had already gotten on the case of some of the jocks who hadn't gotten enough sleep at home.

It was a good thing Briana was wide awake instead of napping as per usual routine. The kid sat in a seat in the aisle to her left and had a concentrated expression on her face.

Amanda noted that the kid was tapping her pencil thoughtfully against the wire spiral of her notebook. She knew that was sometimes a nervous habit that she only saw when something was bothering the kid.

"You okay, Bree?" she asked as she saw that there were books on Ellis Island on Briana's desk that were untouched. Her best friend was usually a studios person, getting assignments done before their due dates was a common thing for her, but now Briana hadn't done anything to accomplish the project's end.

"I'm not sure," Briana answered softly. "I'm just a little … conflicted."

"About what?" she prompted, while noticing that Briana was being a little bit more fidgety than normal.

"The project…."

"Oh," Amanda assessed as the kid trailed off. "You're having _difficulties_ doing this without pain?"

Briana just shrugged instead of giving a verbal reply and Amanda raised an eyebrow. That hadn't been the answer she'd been expecting if she did have a clear idea of as to what to expect.

She somewhat understood how family related school projects affected Briana. They'd had an English teacher last year who was new to the area who'd wanted them to write about their favorite person in their family and Briana had just sat there like she was frozen in some memory. Needless to say, Briana didn't entirely do well on that project, and it wasn't because English was her least favorite subject.

"Okay, if you aren't saddened by this, then what are you feeling? _And_ don't say 'conflicted,' be more specific," she pressed.

Briana sighed and Amanda could see that the topic of family origins was _somehow_ eroding the solid armor around the kid that made up the Nightingale. It was a rare occurrence that the kid under the cowl made an appearance without tears and mournful laments over her family, and that was saying something because as the years went by the mournful one was becoming rarer.

"You know how I was adopted by the Thomas', right?"

"Yeah." Amanda nodded.

"Well, yesterday I went to see a friend of the family. Actually, he was my parents' lawyer," she continued. "He told me that my real mom had intended on coming back for me but never was able to. He gave me a letter from her along with a locket."

Briana produced a heart shaped silver locket that was on a slender chain from under her shirt. The silver heart had an emerald green jewel on top of it and it too was shaped like a heart. Amanda found it ironically fitting for Briana to have such a piece of jewelry.

"And how is this bothering you?" she questioned after a moment of looking over emerald heart.

"I'm not quite sure," Briana said slowly, probably analyzing the words as they formed in her mouth. She shrugged again before continuing, "I guess I kinda want to know what my _real_ heritage is, but I also want to include the Thomas' somehow. I mean they _were_ the people who raise me after all."

Amanda blinked momentarily as she took a moment to process all that she'd just been told. That hadn't entirely been the answer that she'd been anticipating. In all honesty, she hadn't known what to expect, she was asking Briana personal questions after all.

She had no idea as to what to say. Briana had just told her something that sounded like it was part of a movie plot and all that was missing was the ending.

Normally, she would have shrugged everything off as fabricated, but Briana had been the one it all pertained to, so she had to partially believe it. Bree would comb through the lies to find the truth about what she knew, so Amanda found her friend's words to be on some form of good authority.

Briana's chuckle brought Amanda back to reality.

"Don't worry about my problems, Amanda, I'll figure it out. I guess since I'm adopted, I could do both as one project, since I count the Thomas' as my family," Briana said with an amused tone underlying her voice.

"Yeah, you do that," she responded. "It won't hurt, and I bet Mr. Raven would actually give you extra credit for it all."

"I hope so; extra credit is always something I could use in the future."

"You know since you're having a moment of indecision, think you could help me figure out where I come from based on my good looks," Amanda jested to clear the air.

"Yeah, you look like an English and Irish mix to me."

"_Seriously_, that fast?"

"Yep, though, I'd guess that German would be in the mix as well."

"Okay, why Irish though?"

"It'd explain the freckles."

**Gotham City, Connecticut **

**8:56 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p><em>Why can't they make these lectures more interesting?<em> Dick thought as he groaned. Class was just as boring as ever, and to make matters worse he was in English class where they had no respect for his creative vocabulary.

He didn't see why his teacher discouraged his use of prefix-less words. Considering that new words were added to the dictionary every year, he didn't see why he couldn't create new ones.

Even if he wasn't supposed to use words that his teacher deemed _'made-up'_, Dick used them and they really made patrol interesting.

_Yep, this is truly boring. I wonder if this is how Wally feels half the time, _he mused as he aimlessly scanned over the handout on how to write a short story. Though he had his own way with words, he didn't care much for using them to tell stories, or at least ones that his teacher required of him in class.

More often than not, he ended retelling one of the many crazy patrols he'd been on, except his retelling usually involved either a futuristic or fantastical backdrop. It really surprised him how much his teachers loved it when the patrol of Batman and Robin were translated into worlds similar to that of J.R.R. Tolkien or Ian Fleming.

"Can't we just start writing already?" he mumbled under his breath as the lecture bore on. His teacher seemed to enjoy giving longwinded speeches about outlining the whole short story. To some extent it seemed that the teacher was bored of his own curriculum too, since they were only learning it for the standardized state testing that they'd be taking spring of Sophomore year.

The teacher was so bored in fact that Dick chanced slipping out his i-Phone and skimming through this text messages most of which had been sent to his phone from the Bat computer.

The subjects of most were a name of one or other of the suspected Nightingales. Thanks to a customized program, he could monitor the activities of all the suspects while as school using the security cameras of Daleville High School.

He tapped the one entitled _'Briana Thomas.' _The others could wait, but he'd like to know more about her and this was the only way he learn more about her at the present moment.

Unfortunately, there wasn't anything above the norm. She was mostly conversing with her friends, putting a text book in her locker, and checking out a book on Ellis Island from the library. That was all done during one passing period before heading to her free track class.

_Hmm, wonder what's on her mind,_ he though as he examined one of the pictures that had been sent along with the text. Though it was in black and white and very grainy, he could see that she had something on her mind.

Dick would place a bet on the possibility that something about her school day was troubling her, but he wasn't about to leave any stone unturned, that was the way a detective worked.

"What'cha up to?" Barbra Gordon asked in a whisper, evidently she too had gotten bored of the droning lecture on outlining.

Dick flashed a smile. "Just checking my texts."

"Anything interesting?"

"Why would you want to know?"

"You always seem to have something interesting going on," she responded with a shrug.

He smiled even more playfully at her. She didn't know the half of it. It was nice, though, to have a friend around who didn't know about his hero life. She only saw the slightly more average side of his life, and yet she still saw past the rich kid façade that he had to play most of the time.

"It's pretty normal this time," he replied scrolling down the list of messages to the ones that were pretty average. That is, if he could call a text from a speedster who lived in the mid-west 'average.'

"So what are you doing this afternoon?" she questioned.

"Honestly, I don't know, but things are usually always a last minute thing for me," Dick replied. "Why do _you_ ask?"

"Oh, I've been having some problems with my Algebra again, I was wondering if you could help me," Barbra answered.

"All things considered this week, I might have some time this afternoon," he responded. He knew that during the middle of the week, especially after two consecutive missions, the Bat often gave the team a rest. Though when he did consider the possibility of going back to Daleville merely because the Nightingale investigation hadn't been completed, there was a definite possibility that the team or just him could be sent back to Daleville to find her.

The bell ran as Barbra was about to answer.

Almost as one creature, the class collected their things and scurried out the door.

"So I'll see you at the manor?" he said a Barbra and he were about to part ways.

"Yeah, I'll see you, if you're available," she said as she went in the opposite direction.

_Yes,_ he thought. This is perfect._ I get a break and get to hang out with Barbra. Yes!_

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**9:06 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>"Briana! ….. Briana Thomas!"<p>

"_Huh_? ... What?" Briana drawled as she opened her eyes to see Mrs. Brooks standing in front of her.

"Ms. Thomas, this period in your schedule is meant to be to your advantage. It's meant for you to do your homework and get the assistance _you_ need, not take a nap," Mrs. Brooks stated in a snappy voice. "I would suggest that _you_ take full advantage of the period, and get the help that you _probably_ need."

"Yes, Ma'am." Briana begrudgingly sat up in her desk. She had been taking full advantage of her free period. She'd been getting some well deserved sleep, but she usually didn't get anything that she deserved and evidently Mrs. Brooks deemed napping as something irresponsible.

Around her, other students were sitting at their desks doing their unfinished homework or reading, some were on the computers that lined the walls of the English teacher's room.

On most occasions, Briana would save napping for a different class. She often got enough of it during Mr. Raven's lecture that she could do something worthwhile in her free period and not get Mrs. Brooks attention, but today she hadn't. So she had made an attempt to nap in Mrs. Brooks' classroom that ultimately failed.

_Guess I'd better make the most of this period,_ she thought as she leafed through her knapsack. When her hand rested on what she needed, she glanced up briefly and noted Mrs. Brooks watching her as if she were a troublemaker. _And get off Mrs. Brooks radar while I'm at it._

Causally, Briana pulled her black cover diary out. She hadn't spent any time that morning chronicling the strange events of her patrol. By her standards, she was behind in her schedule and she needed to amend that. As with most days, there would be work that would occupy the hours of the day that were ahead and she needed to put some necessary tasks behind her before she could move on.

She grabbed a pen from her limited selection of writing utensils and began neatly transferring her encounters with one too many villains and an odd fight that had turned into an unintentional team up into the black hard cover diary. Her neat script made quick work of the pages as she gave the locations, participants, and repercussions of each fight.

Thanks to her highly trained memory, Briana wrote probably what had been said in the conversations word for word. Usually, unless she was certain that her opponents had said something to tease that she hoped was a hint, she didn't take the time to write it down, but she knew that the Nightingale's conversations with Tom and Allie Cat, and Sportsmaster had more meaning to them then she'd first perceived.

Sportsmaster's offer particularly piqued her interest. He'd mentioned a third party, meaning that whatever was happening in Daleville ran deeper, much deeper, than she'd first guessed. There was higher power influencing what was going on for their gain.

She'd known that there had always been at least two from the beginning, though she hadn't fully admitted it until the article in the _Gotham Gazette_ came out about her.

Briana sighed as she looked longingly at the blank pages. She'd listed the obvious intent of each of the people whom had given her reason to be tired.

Obviously, there was money to be made if Ship Rat was involved.

Tom and Allie Cat, they wanted her dead, by order of Ship Rat or someone else she hadn't a clue.

Sportsmaster had been sent escorting something that was involved and bearing an invitation on someone else's behalf, but orders had been given if she'd refused orders to _also_ kill her.

Red Arrow just wanted to know about what was going on, but something about Cheshire had blinded him.

Cheshire was in this for bloodlust and said blood being that of a certain bird.

Scourge, however, was involved for more than one reason. Her death was one of his intentions. She knew that was probably one his reasons for anything on any given day, be it normal or _extremely_ weird, but he had some other motivation. Either the higher powers involved were threatening to take his life or there was some other reason for his team up with Ship Rat, Sportsmaster, and every other villain who'd come to the convention Daleville was hosting.

With the detailed description of the fights, and the evident reasons out of the way, Briana could focus on the realm of possibilities. She had to speculate on what was to come and other things that weren't apparent or shrouded in mystery.

_Come on, think! There isn't enough info right now for much, but anything it better than nothing and having something is being prepared,_ she thought in dismay with the blank pages ready for her entry stared up at her.

Unfortunately, her mind was also drawing a blank. Thin ice surrounded her because there was too little that she could use to make any educated guess upon.

Briana usually liked to speculate about what was going on with a little more evidence than she had at the moment, and she also froze because there was outside factors that she had no knowledge of. Anything that she anticipated could be thrown completely to the wind since she only had knowledge of the events in Daleville.

Presently she penned some of the things she was nearly certain of.

"_Two forces at play right now, two opposite forces. They are both working against each other to stir up this mess._

"_One force is the Justice League, represented by their sidekicks, (why is that?)_

"_Don't know the other, but they're the exact opposite of the Justice League. The _In_justice League perhaps? Or someone else? They've got local and exotic villains in their corner._

"_More importantly, they want me dead. Why is that? Why do they consider me a threat when the Justice League sidekicks are running around Daleville? I'm no more than a gnat to either of them. Or am I?_

"_What have I become to Daleville?"_

Briana stopped there. She knew she'd have to answer that question or get someone else to answer it for her, but for now she was stumped.

She could see that the answer was much more significant than she would normally think, but for now she didn't have the answer to that essential question.

How could she? All she'd ever considered herself was the sole protector of Daleville; she'd never paused to consider what more she was.

She'd never paused to consider how her actions and adventures affected the world.

_Do my actions even affect the world at all? One small port town couldn't be that significant, could it? _she wondered as she flipped through the previous entries thoughtfully.

It both scared and amazed her that she could be more to the world then just some stubborn kid trying to do the right thing, but even if she discovered the answer to that question, she figured that she wouldn't care.

She was Briana Thomas, a teen that moonlighted as a vigilante and had high school the next morning, and that was exactly who she needed to be and always would be.

The entries that she looked over varied extremely from page to page always reflecting how each of her patrols went. As she began to think less about her question, and more about what was written on the page, Briana almost longed for the patrols that were chronicled.

She'd continue being the hero and work her butt off to figure out what was going on, but she needed a break from the consecutive nights of fights and long hours.

When compared with what was written, she felt like she was fighting an uphill battle that she was losing with far too much causality.

_When will Daleville return to normal? _she questioned as she flipped to the Sunday when the roller coaster began.

She scanned over the two days that she'd experienced, hardly even bothering to read over it. She knew what had happened. It was all too fresh in her memory.

_"Who is Robin, the Boy Blunder?"_ was the page that she finally rested on. A small smile quirked upwards on her face at the reminder that the previous day she'd been stalked, so to speak, by a superhero who'd been determined to find her, but had ultimately failed.

Briana chuckled a bit as she thought about how close Robin had been to finding her, but the boy detective hadn't. It had been right under his nose, but he hadn't seen.

As her amusement passed and left a smile, an idea sparked in her head.

_Ding-Bat's made his move, so that means it's my turn._ Her smile was somewhere between playful and mischievous at this thought. She checked her wrist watch and happily noted that she stall had a little over fifteen minutes to occupy before class was over.

Briana closed her notebook and tucked it under her arm as she sauntered over to Mrs. Brooks' desk. Normally, she would forgo asking the teacher's permission to use the computer because the answer was usually a sound yes, but since she'd gotten on Mrs. Brooks nerves earlier, she decided to ask just to be on the safe side.

"Hey, Mrs. Brooks, I was just looking over my agenda and saw that I've got some research that I need to do, so may I use the computer?" Briana gave a sheepish smile as she bent the truth.

"I knew that there was _something_ you need to do, go ahead and use it, you've got less than twenty minutes anyway," replied the teacher in her usual crabby voice.

"Thanks, I think that's all the time I need," Briana said as she turned towards the computer lined wall. She made sure to sit furthest away from Mrs. Brooks' desk.

Briana didn't know if it was just her today or because she'd chosen to take a nap instead of work that Mrs. Brooks was getting on her case, but she didn't want Mrs. Brooks interrupting her investigation, so she'd avoid having someone looking over her shoulder.

Thankfully, it didn't take forever for the computer to load like it usually did, so she had more time to use for the investigation of the sparse clues that she had.

She typed _'Ellis Island'_ into one of the search engines and browsed through the first few pages of results before bringing up the ones that she thought would be most useful if she had to read them. She knew that the best way to fool a teacher was to _actually_ do a little work before moving on to irrelevant subjects.

When she was satisfied that Mrs. Brooks wasn't giving her watchful glances from across the room, Briana lazily typed in _'Robert Grayson'_ into the search engine.

_I may actually need more time than fifteen minutes, _she thought, frowning at the screen as it displayed hits that she immediately knew to be irrelevant.

She drummed her fingers as her patience and time wore thin. Facebook pages, Twitter accounts, and MySpace pages that appeared didn't feature the person she was looking for. A thin line formed on her face as her frustration grew and formed a tight knot.

_What was I thinking when I thought an_ alias _would be useful? It couldn't be his real name, so either I just wasted time or there's something useful here that I'm not seeing. Which is it? _she assessed as she glared at the monitor. _Did he say something useful to me when we talked?_

Briana grinned as she realized something. Boy Blunder had given her a smile when she'd commented on Zatanna's name. He hadn't given the mischievous type smile or _'I know something you don't, ha!'_ type smile.

_Robert's too general of a name, but Grayson … let's see._ Briana's fingers flew across the keyboard quickly before hitting enter and waited for the page listing the results to load. Ah_, never mind. This is just as bad as 'Robert' would have been._

Briana should have known have known that the first results would be related to the origin of the last name. That's what they'd probably be for the first twenty pages or so, but Briana went through them, knowing that she might miss something otherwise.

By the seventeenth page, the bell was about to ring and she hadn't seen anything other than origins. She clicked on the eighteenth page and decided it'd be her last one.

"Finally, something other than Grayson means this or that," she muttered under her breath. "Hmm … _'Tragedy Strikes at Circus,'_ interesting."

She quickly read through the description, and noted that in bold letters was the word she'd typed into the search engine along with others that read as follows: "….. Flying **Graysons** fall ….."

She cringed as the bell rang, but she clicked on the link and waited as the page loaded.

_I'm gonna be late, better get this to go,_ she thought and pressed the icon to print the page. She quickly signed off the computer and the collected the printed papers, before heading to piano class.


	36. Photography and Worries

**Photography and Worries**

**Daleville, Connecticut **

**9:56 A.M. EDT**

**(Half of this chapter has been rewritten, please reread, all information found in the previous version will be followed up on.)**

* * *

><p>"<em>Wait, Peter is going to kindergarten now?<em>" Stephen had asked when his mom had helped the youngest Miles into clothing and herded him out the door earlier that morning.

"_Yes, he is,_" his mother had replied with a smile. "_So you're free to watch, play, and do whatever you like while on your suspension just so long as it doesn't wait your father up. If you find yourself bored, I'd suggest going through you're room and moving your floordrobe to your closet._"

That'd been almost two hours ago. Two hours that Stephen had spent bored and staring at the ceiling above his bed or above the couch.

The apartment was eerily quiet as he lay there. Stephen wasn't used to the silence. There was usually something going on, such as Johnny playing a video game, Peter being his rambunctious self, or his mom cooking a meal.

In a mostly failed attempt to dispel the silence, he'd turned on his laptop and had it playing some of his favorite rap bands. He'd even attempted to read a book (something he hadn't done in a while), but the uncomfortable silence in the Miles household was disconcerting to him.

So with _I am Number Four_ on his stomach and his arms behind his head, Stephen stared at the ceiling. He'd only gotten a few chapters deep into the sci-fi novel before stopping due to the abnormal silence he felt.

_This is torture._ He sighed thoughtfully, before beginning to rack his brain for ideas of tasks to preoccupy his time.

Stephen began to eye the contents of his room without lolling his head around. He chuckled slightly. His mom was right, his room was a mess, but he had _no_ desire to make any progress on his '_floordrobe'_, as his mom put it.

"I did want to see if my cameras still worked," he murmured. Dog-earing the chapter he'd paused on, he rolled out of bed.

It'd been a while since he'd worked with his cameras, but he knew exactly how to check and fix them if need be. Though it was verging on a year since he'd picked up one of the cameras on his shelf, there was still a mostly dormant ember in him for his passion of photography.

He scanned the shelf briefly before selecting his favorite. It was a digital Cannon camera with interchangeable lenses.

_I wonder where we keep the batteries,_ he questioned looping the camera strap around his neck and inspecting it. He rarely left batteries in his cameras since he was somewhat paranoid that they would corrode.

Deciding that the camera was in a good condition, pretty much the way he left it, Stephen exited his room and headed to the kitchen. He was pretty certain that in one of the drawers, the one where they kept the spare sets of keys, there were batteries in them. Heck, he was certain he could find anything in the draw, what with Peter's habit of hiding things.

As he opened the door to his room, Stephen almost regretted leaving his rap playlist on. The apartment outside his room was even quieter. It was the kind of quiet that feels like you break it at your own peril.

Despite knowing that his father slept like a log after a night call, he crept as quietly as he could towards the kitchen.

"This is _ridiculous_," he muttered softly to himself when he finally entered the kitchen.

Pulling opened the drawer furthest from the stove revealed that there were indeed batteries there.

_Yes! Score, a whole new pack of 'em,_ he thought with a smile. Stephen opened the box of batteries and took out what he needed plus some extras which he put in the front pocket of his jeans. _Let's see if we're in business._

Stephen carefully placed the needed batteries in the correct slot and turned on the camera. He silently congratulated himself with the screen flickered to life and he looked through the view finder.

For a few minutes he played with the zoom and other features that the camera had.

"Hmm … memory's completely empty," he mused aloud. "And I suppose the weather … No, I don't _suppose_, I know that the weather is nice."

He looked on longingly out the kitchen window as a bird flew by. He wished that he had freedom like that at times. The childish freedom that he saw in Peter's eyes was something he'd lost, but he knew he could gain it back, at least for a few hours.

"Guess a photographic jaunt around town won't kill me," he mused with a shrug. Stephen selected a pen and post-it note stack from the corner near the fridge.

On it he wrote:

_Went out. Be back for dinner. Took cell phone._

_~Stephen_

Stephen put the post-it note on the fridge, he know that his mother or father would see it when they looked for food.

Before leaving, he quickly went back to his mess of a room, turned off his music, and put his laptop into sleep mode.

He slid his cell phone from his desk and into his pocket before leaving his room.

At the front door to his family's apartment, Stephen slipped on his favorite pair of running shoes, and grabbed a sweat shirt from the hall tree.

Let's go see if I'm still as good of photographer as Brian thought I was.

**Happy Harbor, Rhode Island**

**10:06 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Kaldur sat at one of the reading tables in the library with a book that Roy had suggested cracked opened. He had learned how to read the characters of the English language almost as soon as he'd become Aqualad, and he'd been improving his literary skills ever since.<p>

Unfortunately, very often he found the books that were popular among most of the surface dwellers weren't what he liked. But, thankfully, Roy's suggestions wee rather enjoyable, been if he'd been informed that _The Fellowship of the Ring_ took a while to get anywhere.

He was actually finding that despite the lack of action, as Roy put it, the Hobbits lifestyle and point of view of the world around them was quite fascinating. Obviously the author had written it as such to get the reader invested in the quest of Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin would undoubtedly embark on later in the story.

At the moment, he was alone in the library; Zatanna had elected to sleep in since the two late nights in a row had taken a lot out of her. Though it could also be this way for hours, the magician may do her school work in her room merely for comfort and convince.

He was coming to the end of a chapter and half saddened that the child-like seriousness of Tom Bombadil was leaving the story, when his cellular device went off.

Taking a moment to leave the hardcover book opened to the page he'd paused on face up on the table, he reached in the pocket of the sweat pants he wore in cases of normalcy.

"Hello?" he said into the cell phone.

"_Morning Kaldur, what does the team know about the Nightingale?_" a voice belonging to Roy responded.

"Good morning to you as well, Roy," Kaldur greeted, "and what about the Nightingale interests you?"

Kaldur knew that Roy had been, and probably still was, in Daleville from the team's first night on guard duty. He hadn't seen or heard from the archer at all during their previous mission, so he had little knowledge of where Roy was or had ended up.

This call was indeed unexpected. Though their conversation the other night had been brief, Kaldur had a pretty good idea of what his friend's intentions were in Daleville. Roy was there to stop the Shadows from stealing their target merchandise.

The Nightingale, however, hadn't been at all mentioned in their conversation. In fact, he wasn't aware that there had been any assistance from the vigilante until Batman had informed the team of their mission previous.

He was well aware that Roy was supposed to help the group of his teammate shadow those suspected of being the Nightingale while the light lasted, but he also knew that Roy had gone off on his own before Wally and Artemis had arrived at the Daleville Public Library. Robin had informed him that Roy had gone off to shadow a different suspect, but hadn't reported any of what he'd seen.

This either indicated that Roy had abandoned it and was disinterested in the Nightingale or, as seemed to be the case, Roy was investigating the Nightingale in his own fashion. He wondered what Roy had discovered that required a comparing of notes.

"_Nightingale knows something,_" Roy responded in a frustrated tone. "_She tried to meet with me last night, but we were interrupted by Cheshire and a local baddie called Scourge._"

Kaldur's face contorted into a serious expression. He could tell that he wasn't getting the full story, but he trusted Roy to tell him what was important. "Did you get any information from her?"

"_No, she was pretty beat up by the time I meet with her, and she looked exhausted by the end of it. But what does the team know about her?_"

"We hardly know anything about her other than what Robin has uncovered. She is elusive. Do you know something more about her?"

"_Yeah, she knows something that important enough to get her killed,_" Roy spat in frustration. "_At this rate, she's gonna be dead before I've found anything._"

Kaldur thought for a moment. Though he didn't know the indefinite reason that Robin and Batman were searching for the resident heroine of Daleville, he did know that the reasons for the team to find her were clearer than ever. Whether she knew it or not, the Nightingale's life was at risk and whatever she knew was invaluable to the activities arising in Daleville.

"Are you looking for her?" he asked rising from his seat and leaving the library.

"_Yeah, but it isn't doing any good. I'm either a lousy detective or she's hidden her trail too well,_" Roy replied, his voice revealing that he was irritated with himself.

"Does the saying two heads are better than one apply here?" Kaldur questioned. Roy had called him to ask for information, since he was unable to give that, he elected to offer assistance in some other way.

"Daleville is hours away from the Cave," the archer pointed out, but didn't reject his offer.

"There's a vehicle zeta-tube to Gotham that I can take," Kaldur said. "I can be there in a couple of hours."

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**10:31 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p>Johnny stared at the white board as Mrs. Brooks lecture droned on about literature from the Romantic period. He wasn't sure why he felt bored considering that immediately before his English class he had creative writing. He was immensely fond of creative writing, but as soon as he set foot in Mrs. Brooks' classroom, English became dull.<p>

_It's probably just Mrs. Brooks considering how much Briana complains about her and she doesn't even take Mrs. Brooks' English class, _Johnny assessed as he took down the information that had just been written on the board.

"And that concludes what you need to know on Romantic literature," Mrs. Brooks announced as she put the dry erase marker on the holder of the white board. "Before you even consider study hall for the rest of the period, I want you to get into your groups and work on vocabulary for our next reading. When you are done with that, you may go into study hall until then work."

Johnny slouched in his chair as the whole class collectively groaned. It was probable that Mrs. Brooks was the most taskmaster-like of all the teachers at Daleville High.

From his slumped over position in his seat, Johnny surveyed the room looking for others in his group.

_Huh,_ he thought when he only spotted one other member in the room. _Wonder where Evangeline and Chris are._

He sat up and rummaged through his knapsack as the only other present member of his group sauntered over to his near empty table.

"So do you have the word list or do we have to ask Mrs. Brooks for a new one?" Jack asked as he sat down in the opposing desk to Johnny.

"No, I've got it." Johnny pulled the list out of his notebook and heard Jack sigh audibly. They both were thankful that he'd entrusted with the list as opposed to Chris and Evangeline. Mrs. Brooks was not a pleasant person when she discovered that a student had arrived to class unprepared, even if it wasn't their fault. And they most certainly didn't want to talk to her this morning, because it seemed that someone had already rumpled her feathers that day. It'd probably been someone she'd caught sleeping during the previous period, not that it mattered since it was third hour's problem now.

"Okay, good," Jack said, getting to the assignment at hand quicker than was normal for him. "So do we want to split the words between you and me or do we want to make an absent tea ballet?"

Johnny shrugged. "We could split it and the ones we don't finish will be for Chris and Evangeline when they get back."

Jack nodded his consent as he copied his words onto a scrap of paper. In a few minutes, they were both skimming through the dictionary looking for their words.

Johnny knew that while this would earn them leeway with Mrs. Brooks if they wanted to chat later on, it wasn't a normal habit of Jack's to get on task right away.

He wasn't one to be super suspicious like Briana sometimes was, but her words, however calm they might have been said earlier that morning, set him on edge. He couldn't get his mind to stop thinking about how Briana's life was in danger during the day time.

A thing such as that could only be possible if the Nightingale's identity had been compromised, which was doubtable. Bree had never slipped up like that before, and the only reason he'd found out was that he knew Briana's voice too well to not connect the dots. Besides, if she knew that her secret was out, she'd already be out of town by that time in the morning or something like that and since Bree knew that her life was in the balance, he could see that her secret was still her own.

_Snap out of it, Johnny,_ he ordered himself as absurd ideas and worries ran through his mind. _Jack has been Bree's friend for years. He wouldn't even consider harming her; _he'd_ probably do the exact opposite and try to save her. As if that wouldn't flip itself around the instant it happened._

He smiled slightly. Bree was never going to be a damsel in distress for anyone. In fact it was more likely that someone would be a damsel in distress for her.

"So," Jack said slowly getting Johnny's attention. "Has Amanda talked to you any about the surprise party?"

Johnny looked up from the dictionary and eyed Jack.

"You'll have to talk to Amanda about whether you can help or not, planning it really isn't my specialty," he responded after a moment of thought.

His classmate smiled. "I already have, but I was wondering if she'd told you."

"I haven't really talked to her about the party recently," Johnny answered. Briana had been walking with them on the way to school, so they hadn't been able to exchange information. "I sure hope you're able to help. Bree is a hard one to understand sometimes."

"Actually, she's just quiet, but when you get her talking, she's pretty easy to understand," Jack responded with a shrug while turning the page of his dictionary.

Johnny only nodded in response.

"But in recent years she's changed quite a bit," he continued.

"Yeah, she has."

Johnny knew that there were only three people in Daleville who knew the Nightingale's identity. They were, of course, the Nightingale herself, Amanda, and Johnny. But sometimes he had to wonder exactly what others knew, especially people who were even moderately close to Briana like Jack.

"So you're on cake duty for the party, huh?" the other boy changed the topic as Johnny scribbled down a definition. "Must be hard, even I don't know what kind of cake Thomas likes."

"Actually, Amanda was able to find that out. She just had to do some digging," Johnny answered.

"What is it, anyway?"

"Cookie cake, but now it seems easy compared trying to pick a present for her. You got anything that might help us there?" Johnny couldn't help but find it a little more than weird that though he was a little rigid because Briana's life was in more danger than usual, he was now talking about her party as if it were the most normal thing and she wasn't moonlighting as a vigilante.

"Amanda's got some ideas, but I'm pretty sure she's gonna want to talk to you about those herself."

"That sounds like Amanda."

"Johnny, Jack I hope your conversation is relevant to those definitions," Mrs. Brooks called to them from her desk.

Immediately, the two of them went back to combing through the dictionary, unconsciously agreeing that any further discussion on the topic would be done at a later time.

* * *

><p>"You okay?" Amanda asked as she approached her locker. Johnny was leaning against it with a thoughtful look on his face. She'd seen that look previously on Johnny's face yesterday, but that'd been because he'd been mad at the Nightingale but that seemed to have been amended earlier that morning.<p>

"Just thinking," he answered. "Bree anywhere around?"

"Nope, she's hurried over to Mrs. Bates, but she's got something on her mind too," she answered, turning the knob on her locker and getting her science book out.

"And who in her position wouldn't be thoughtful about stuff?" he retorted.

Amanda just nodded. The thought of Briana in danger at school in broad daylight was unsettling in numerous ways and to make it worse she and Johnny couldn't do a thing about it. Amanda for one didn't like that. Plus she was pretty sure there was more than just an eminent danger on Briana's mind.

"Think she'll make it to Saturday in one piece?" Johnny questioned looking Amanda in the eye.

"Good question," she replied. "It's Briana; all we do is hope for the best at this point."

"Anyway, Jack's in on the party now, correct?" Johnny continued, moving from leaning against the locker to joining Amanda on her way to science class. "He any help?"

"Yeah, he's really helped, we now have soft drinks on the menu," Amanda answered happily. "Mountain Dew is surprisingly her favorite drink."

He nodded in reply. Amanda wondered what Johnny was thinking about, he was being rather quiet and it wasn't often that they switched immediately from the Nightingale and the problems that came with that topic to Briana and surprise parties.

"So any present ideas? My mom offered to help out with a lot of what we need. If we don't hurry, we're not gonna get Bree a present."

"Oh, I've got some ideas," Amanda replied, a grin spreading across her face at the memory of that little secret detail about Briana. "Do you think we can get a Robin tee-shirt along with some other stuff?"

"Ah … _yeah_." Johnny turned to give her an inquisitive look. "Why a _Robin_ tee? Didn't Bree … well, you know, combat him Monday night?"

"Yeah, it's an inside joke now, I'll explain later," Amanda replied with a shrug as she stepped into the science lab room.

"Okay?"

**Okay, so I didn't feel satisified with the previous version of the ending so I rewrote it. I intended to have another chapter along with this one but since that's taking some time I thought I'd update. Sorry for the inconvience.**

**Reasons to keep reading: well, both the bird are trying to figure out the other's idenity and are pretty darn close, Briana's past will hopefully come up before chapter forty, I can't garentee anything though. I've got a few bases to cover before I can get there. **

**Anouncement: updates will be coming a bit slower. It's nearing the end of my school year, summer is jam packed with this and that, and I might not know when the next chance at internet will be so things are going to be slower. Hopefully when I do update, it will be multiple chapters at a time instead of solos, that's probably the only upside to this one.**

**If you think I'm good at female OC's and want to read one existing in the Avengers universe, hop on over to my Miss Victory story. **

**Hope you enjoyed.**

**~Rayner out**


	37. Wait a Little Longer

**Wait a Little Longer**

**Daleville, Connecticut**

**11:29 A.M. EDT**

* * *

><p><em>Why can't this town have more interesting hang outs?<em> Roy thought dully as he sat on a bench, waiting for Kaldur to arrive so they could collaborate in his search for any sign of the Nightingale.

The skate park had quite a few skaters were already there, performing stunts that Roy could easily imagine the Nightingale replicating with ease, but there wasn't a female among the skaters today and Roy was fairly certain that the diplomatic attitude that the Nightingale had approached him with belonged to someone more like a student. A punk demeanor and skater day life didn't match the girl he'd met in some respects.

_A rebel maybe, but definitely not a punk,_ Roy had assessed earlier that morning when he'd evaluated the previous night. _And also an obstinate person, she's probably too stubborn to die of natural causes._

He'd made a list of traits he'd observed the Nightingale of having. He's also made one for Scourge, but it was considerably short than the one for the heroine, but Robin or Kaldur might find that they could use it.

_What's so interesting about this place that the Shadows have to steal it?_ Roy wondered. _Any historical importance about this place isn't advertised and it definitely isn't a vacation hot spot._

"Well, look who showed up again? It's Roy, right?" a moderately familiar voice said. Roy looked off to the side to see Alonzo approaching.

Roy thought for a moment. He hadn't spotted the skater earlier. _Must be just arriving._

"Yeah, had nothing better to do," he responded with a shrug. "Besides my aunt kicked me out of the house, said I didn't go on vacation to watch TV at her place."

"Heh, I know the feeling. My folks want me out of the house most of the time," the skater said amiably, taking a seat next to Roy. "But Daleville High don't want me either, so I come here."

Roy nodded. "Why doesn't the local high school want you there? Drop out or something?"

"Nah, they kicked me out a few months ago. But I guess that's what you get when you '_accidently'_ break a window or two," Alonzo answered adding air quotes to his statement.

Roy raised an eyebrow weary, questioning, and impressed with Alonzo. The worst he'd done in high school was ditch a few of the more boring classes, though he was pretty sure that Ollie would have grounded him for a month if it was anything more than that, and if Ollie didn't punish him than Dinah did.

"So you stay here because no one wants you anywhere else?" he asked to clarify.

"Yep, that's pretty much my lot in life," the skater replied with a nod. "So, what do you do when you're not on vacation?"

He regarded Alonzo for a moment. He'd thought there was something suspicious about the skater during their last conversation and he had to wonder if his uneasiness wasn't undue now that he felt it a second time.

Roy simply shrugged as he answered: "Life's pretty boring for me right now. Just graduated. Came here to take a break from stress, but even my aunt is pressuring me to find a job somewhere or apply for college."

"Got any hobbies? Or were you a school boy before you graduated?" continued the skater.

"Nah, I wasn't pretty high in mu cohort," Roy responded smoothly. "As for hobbies, I haven't got much of one. I've skateboarded before, haven't done it in a while though."

Alonzo nodded with a thoughtful look on his face. "Got nothing better to do, care to try your hand at again now?"

Roy hid a doubtful under small smile as he looked for the skater to the board he was being offered. He was somewhat skeptical, but he really didn't see the harm in it at the moment.

"Sure, why not?" He got off the bench and Alonzo handed him the board. He had now had something to do while he waited for Kaldur.

* * *

><p>"What the <em>hell<em>?" Travis muttered as his cell phone roused him from his exhausted slumber. After a quick breakfast with Flynn's family, Travis had gone to his own small apartment and crashed.

The night had exhausted him with the steak out and the unexpected crime scene at the water front, but evidently his day was only beginning for him.

"Travis Miles here. What's happened?" he demanded in greeting. Usually he was less irritable, but after what he'd been through he wasn't in the mood to be awake for anything petty.

"Commissioner, we've got another Nightingale scene," responded whoever was on dispatch at the moment.

"Where?" Travis climbed off his bed and began grabbing his police uniform off his dresser.

"Twenty-second Brooks and Goodwin."

"Thanks, I'll be there."

With that the brief conversation ended and Travis was already half way out his door.

_Another?_ he thought as he exited his apartment. _Exactly what was the Nightingale doing last night and just how fast can she travel when she wants to?_

As he drove, Travis wished that he had time to spare as he passed Aaron's dinner. He really could have gone for a cup of coffee and the ever _so_ clichéd donut at the moment, but whatever had happened in the slums of Daleville was at the forefront of his priorities.

_If the Nightingale was actually at the docks, then why did she go to the slums or rather when?_ Travis shook his head as he tried to wake himself up some more. _She couldn't have been in two places at once, but she still could have gone to both places in one night. Though, why she would go to the dock and the slums in the same night? What is she up to?_

Travis stored his thoughts as he pulled up to the scene where the Nightingale supposedly had been. Police cars and the usual yellow tape had quarantined off the area.

"What have we got?" he asked as he ducked under the tape. As usual, the rookies jumped rigidly as his question, the only rookie seemingly accustomed to him was Stephen, while the senior officers were relaxed.

"The usual and unusual," answered one of the senior officers. "You oughta see it."

"What do you mean, Officer Jerome?" Travis gave the building the event had taken place in a look over before the forensics officer, Jerome, led him in. It wasn't different from any other building surrounding it, shabby and due to be demolished. It was at least four stories tall and most of the windows hadn't any glass in them.

The interior wasn't much better and every officer had to watch his or her step as they went in.

"Well, the attic of this place was the venue for the Nightingale's after party and she brought along some friends besides Scourge," Jerome answered his question as they carefully made their way up some rickety stairs.

"Can we confirm that the Nightingale actually was here?" he asked. He wasn't usually one to go out of his way to find alibis for their local vigilante, but if the Nightingale was here instead of the docks last night it'd give them more reason to investigate Ship Rat.

"Yep, we've got some of her usual weaponry, but it's sliced up. That and some throwing knives, a weird arrow, and some other weird weapon, she must've had one hell of a party."

"Yeah … does that go through the attic too?" Travis gapped at the large hole through the ceiling of the third story, sunlight shown through the hole in the story above like a spot light.

"Yep, but that's the odd thing," replied the officer. "Though the floor's fallen through here, the party happened on the next floor. Someone must have fallen through while they were dancing."

Travis nodded and quickly inspected the debris on the floor before moving onto the next story. It wasn't uncommon for apartment buildings such as this to be in need of repair or in need of demolition, so a participant in the fight falling through the floor didn't strike Travis as odd.

"They found the weirdest of the weapons in that crap below," Jerome said as Travis looked down in the hole in the floor.

"What was it?" Travis took another look over the side before moving away from the edge.

"Not sure yet, but it looks oriental to me and most of the forensic team," Jerome answered. He gestured to the fold up table where forensics had set up shop. Travis went over to it. As he expected there were zip-lock bags containing evidence that'd been found at the scene.

Among these were the items that Jerome had mentioned before: the throwing knives, an arrow with red fletching, and Nightingale's signature weapon.

_Isn't it called a bola?_ Travis wondered as he eyed it. It'd been sliced to bits. He scanned the table and inspected the weapon that Jerome had said was weird. _He was right about the abnormality of this weapon._

Travis picked up the plastic bag to inspect the weapon more closely. It appeared to be made of steel and looked oriental in origin, as Jerome had observed. There were three prongs to this odd weapon. It looked almost like a hand held trident. Except the middle one came to a fine point, not doubling back like and arrow head, and the prongs on both the right and left sides curved gently outwards in an almost S-shape.

_What have you gotten yourself into, Nightingale?_ Travis silently wondered as he set this odd weapon down on the table. After examining it, he hoped that the wielder of such a weapon had been on the Nightingale's side, but for some reason he doubted it.

"Alright, let's see the rest of this scene."

* * *

><p>"Why does daytime take so long to burn?" Briana grumbled under her breath as she scanned the worksheet Mr. Flora had given her and the rest of her math class.<p>

With a huff, she turned to her notes then back to the steps she'd taken in order to complete the current problem she was working. The worksheet was almost complete, but that didn't mean she would be free to do what she wished when she was done. Mr. Flora encouraged all his class to work ahead when they had the chance and Briana usually had the opportunity to do just that.

She calculated the answer quickly after she referenced her work with her notes and moved reluctantly to the next problem, but her attention was split. It was split between her current problem and the print out folded neatly up in her black cover diary at the bottom of her knapsack, the information that paper could possibly have burned impatiently in Briana's mind.

"It couldn't be a coincident that Ding-Bat and the Flying Grayson's have the same last name could it?" she had reflected during English class, the period before this. She was eager to read the old internet article. The situation in Daleville weighed heavily on her mind and discovering Robin's identity could give her a much needed advantage. Even if it did nothing more than get the Boy Blunder off her back, then it'd help.

She let out a frustrated sigh as she loosened her grip on her pencil to tap a rhythm against her desk.

_Get the work done, it'll go faster,_ Briana reminded herself. _It always does. _

Briana silently forced herself to remain focused on her worksheet and the notes she had instead of all the other stresses she'd have to deal with later on in her extended day.

**I'm so, so SUPER sorry I took forever to write this and now that it's written it is not my finest. I'm sincerely sorry that all my readers had to wait over three months for this chapter, and I have this to show for it.**

**I was on vacation for a little longer than I should have been and if the characters in this chapter don't seem like themselves, I assure that I will fix that as soon as possible. I kinda fell out of sync with this story, because of the massive break I took. But I'm determined that this story will not be left unwritten. I'm in the process of rereading it, and I'm also trying to rewrite some of the chapter to make them better. **

**I plan on writing another chapter some time soon, but I've just become a senior in high school, so that may not happen as often as you or I'd like. Plus I have other great stories in the works, I have too many project. Plus I'm considering getting a blog somewhere for all my original stories. Yeah, I have way too many project on my hands, good thing I have ADD I'm a great multitasker.**

**~Rayner out**


	38. Dear Reader Please Read THIS!

**Dear Reader:**

No, for anyone who was losing hope in me, I'm not dead, nor is this story. It is, in fact quite the opposite, very much alive. There will be future chapters of this story that are new, but only when the story retells itself to me. I'm only the scribe, as most author's are to their stories. So please bare with me.

I'm truly sorry for this false update. I know you were probably looking forward to another chapter of this epic story, but got the author talking instead.

Well, let me make it up to you. I have rewritten the first chapter of _Rise of the Nightingale_ and it would be worth your time to read it.

Besides have rewritten that chapter just for you, there is a special announcement located there that you would do well to read, especially X and my other gust reader for I've branched out into other social media that you can better interact with me. If you can't, let me know, and I'll leave a note every time I post a rewritten chapter.

This chapter will self delete three weeks from now. Have a nice day.

~Rayner out


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